Blood Song
by xseikax
Summary: Lilyth was the opposite of what a hero should be, a manipulative blood mage who wanted nothing but power, to survive. She had risen up from a bitter past, forged her will into iron resolve, and knew the cruel lesson of life: only the strong survived.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** This story was very heavily influenced by Ventisquear's amazing story: Ignis Internum. In it, she starts by exploring the madness of Renden Howe, and it caused me to start wondering about the darkness that can lurk in the human mind._  
><em>Thus, Lilyth was born, and I thought to explore a story *far* different from Eyes of a Stranger. That's still my main story, so unfortunately this one won't be updated as frequently. But, once Lilyth appeared in my mind, she wouldn't stay quiet until I got part of her story out.<em>  
><em><strong>Warning:<strong> I would like to warn you upfront before you start reading, though. This story is *very* dark and will deal with a lot of horrific subjects such as murder, abuse, rape, etc. Lilyth is a girl with a lot of problems. If any of those things bother you, I would suggest that this is not a story you would enjoy._  
><em>Also, as another aside, if you find the time you really should check out Vent's story, as well as some of her other work. Put quite simply, she is a brilliant writer.<strong><br>**_

* * *

><p><strong>I. We're all Mad Here<strong>

"_Hello, Daddy."_

"_Who the hell are you?"_

"_Aw, you do not remember me? That hurts me, Daddy. Look at how sad I am; I believe I might even cry."_

_The old man's senses were dulled by drink and lack of sleep, but it seemed that nothing would change his usual foul temper. He scowled angrily and took another swig of his ale. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he took another look at the girl standing in front of him. She watched his eyes widen as slowly, he realized who she was._

"_What are **you** doing here? I thought your mother and I got rid of you a long time ago."_

_Delighted laughter bubbled from the girl's slender throat. "I came to see you, Daddy. I cannot tell you how badly I have missed everyone." She beamed happily and clapped her hands together. "Shall I show you, Daddy? Shall I show you how much I have missed you?"_

oOo

Lilyth Surana rose from her bed like a maiden out of a fairy tale, all grace and delicate movements as she pulled back the covers, slipped to the edge of the bed and flicked her eyes towards the small window of her stone room. She could just see the faintest hints of the morning light, the softest shades of pinks and oranges lightly breaking the dark sky. It was time to get up, before the templars began to swarm the halls and privacy was no longer an option. That, or risk being discovered. Certainly Greagoir wouldn't be pleased to find her in such a situation, though one would think that he'd be used to it by now.

She turned her attention to the young man still snoring softly beside her. Her dark blue eyes traveled smugly over the curves of his body; the muscles in his chest and arms, the blonde hair spilling across his oh so handsome face. He really _had _been quite a delight; viral, experienced, and eager for pleasure. Provided that he didn't annoy her during the day, she might actually consider a second night with him.

She slipped out of the bed, naked, and silently padded over to her small armoire. The slight shifting of the bed seemed to wake up the sleeping man; she heard him sigh and begin to stir. But, Lilyth ignored him and flicked through her clothes. Really, these Circle robes were so very unflattering. Whoever designed them certainly hadn't taken a woman's vanity into account.

But, she knew that there was no hope for it. All mages were supposed to wear them. The reason for it was never specified, though she suspected it was to make things easy for the templars when they had a... _tryst _with one of the mages.

Well, nothing to do but put it on. She stepped into her underclothes and pulled out one of the blue robes; at least the soft color made her dark eyes look stunning. Which was all that could be said for it, in all honesty, since it did absolutely nothing for her figure. She slipped the robe over her head, zipped up the back, and turned from the armoire to see the young man sitting up in the bed, smiling at her.

"Good morning," he said sleepily, running a hand through his tousled hair. She noticed that his voice carried the typical narcissistic lilt that men always got after a night with a beautiful woman. Her smile became a bit strained.

It disgusted her, the way a man's chin would lift ever so slightly when he saw her, or the way he would walk just a little bit straighter, as if she were some kind of prize that belonged only to him. If this man was like the rest of them, he would toss her winks throughout the day or try to catch her hand and pull her down a secluded hall, believing that now he had some sort of right to take her whenever he wished.

But, a girl did have her own needs, and Lilyth was willing to deal with such irritations as long as she got what she wanted.

She gave him a beautiful smile, taking care to show none of her thoughts. "Good morning, Anders." With the wave of her hand, she gestured towards the small window of her semi-private room. "It is starting to get light. You should leave before the templars find us."

Thankfully, he didn't try to stay and talk; in fact, he didn't even bother to ask her if he would be welcome again. Perhaps the rumors about him were true: that Anders had enough conquests under his belt to know how this ritual went. If so, she would _definitely_ consider another night with him. In Lilyth's experience, most men tended to get a bit possessive after they had a woman. Either that, or they simply brushed her off as a whore and made lewd jokes about her with their friends.

It was a rare man who could just accept the pleasure of another person for what it was: simple pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once he had quietly slipped out of the room, giving her a smile on his way out, Lilyth picked up the brush off her small vanity table and began to run it through her long black hair. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and the reflected pretty face smiled back.

Lilyth was well aware of how beautiful she was; it was the source of all of life's problems, as well as the solution. Some men attributed all sorts of magic to a woman, praising her to the skies for nothing more than the gleam in her eyes or the sweep of her dark lashes. Some others dismissed a beautiful woman as good for only one thing. _She _was good at taking advantage of both views.

When her hair was gleaming and smooth, she set the brush down and closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations still left over from the previous night. Anders had certainly known what he was doing, which was always a pleasurable experience.

A ripple of displeasure emanated from the beautiful crystal amulet she wore on a chain around her neck. Lilyth couldn't help but giggle. "You disapprove, do you?"

**As if I wanted to witness your disgusting behavior!**

"Come now, is that any way for you to speak to me?" She fingered the amulet lovingly. It truly _was _a beautiful piece of crystal; a small stone attached to a thick silver chain. It was the most expensive thing she had ever owned in her own right; though to her, it was beyond priceless. "If you are harsh with me I shall be forced to punish you again. And you do not want that, now do you?" She felt the sudden pulse of fear, and her smile widened. "See? Is it not _so _much nicer when you behave?"

She let the amulet fall against her chest and returned to gaze at herself in the mirror, her eyes sweeping over her face. She pinched her pale cheeks to draw some color to her high cheekbones and bit both of her lips until they flushed pink and, once she was satisfied that her appearance was in order–a woman such as her must _always _look her best–she stood up from the vanity and floated out of the room.

Though the sun had barely risen by that time, some of the mages and templars were already up and about. It seemed that Anders had only moments before being caught. The templars tended to grow quite cross if they found two mages in the passion of lovemaking, and were quick to report such behavior to Greagoir. Lilyth grinned to herself at the hypocrisy of it. It was well known that half of the so-called followers of Andraste had gone a round or two with at least one mage, if not more. It really was quite amusing to think of how all that righteous purity flew right out the window as soon as a pretty woman smiled their way.

As she glided down the halls of the Tower, more and more people slowly began to emerge from their rooms, yawning as they rushed to the dining hall to catch the early meal while the bread was still warm from the oven. Most of the people she saw greeted her cheerfully, to which she responded with a polite nod and a sweet smile. Those men that knew her intimately tossed her sly grins, and she responded by lowering her eyes and flushing. Really, she was rather proud of how good her acting was. No one would ever know that beneath her sweet smile and blushing cheeks, she was fighting back the urge to scowl.

Nine years. She had spent nine years trapped within these stone walls, forced to play a role to hide her real self. Each day was worse than the last; every day drained her more and more as she swallowed back her true feelings and showed an innocent face to those around her. But, there was no help for it, for while she was trapped in the Tower, she could never risk the truth.

Some of the templars already kept a watchful eye on her, given that she had been something of a late comer to the Tower, having been caught using her magic at the age of sixteen. She couldn't risk giving them more reason to suspect her, what with the circumstances of her arrival.

She had been discovered in her father's house, sobbing hysterically over the dead bodies of her mother, father, and three brothers. All of the commotion had drawn the attention of the Denerim guards, who had reluctantly come to the alienage and were stunned to see a young Lilyth, desperately shaking her mother, begging her to wake up.

It was easy enough for them to piece together what happened. They had been able to see the body of the potential thief for themselves; they saw where he had broken into the home, and Lilyth had tearfully confessed that she had killed the intruder with magic. Magic she had claimed she didn't even know she had.

Of course the guards believed her and were full of sympathy. Lilyth was, after all, a beautiful young woman; she knew the power of appearances, and when they saw her clinging to her mother, so terrified and alone, their hearts had gone out to her. They had gently pulled her away from her slaughtered family and guided her from the alienage. They brought her food, and convinced her to eat and drink to build up her strength, even going so far as to call for a healer. They had even convinced the innkeeper to let her stay in a comfortable room for free, while she waited for a templar to come take her to the Tower.

Once there, the story of how she had come to be in the Tower began to circulate, especially after she was put through her Harrowing and became a "true" mage. Everyone practically tripped over themselves to see the poor girl who had watched as her family was brutally murdered. Lilyth was treated like a delicate doll, something to be petted and coddles, and soon she had managed to worm her way into the hearts of everyone, especially the men. Soon most of the Tower's residents began to love the heartbroken little elven girl.

**Monster.**

Lilyth chuckled to herself and grasped the amulet tightly in her slim hand. She sent a wave of energy through it, and felt the satisfying ripple of pain from it. _I told you to be a good boy._

Feeling rather lighthearted, Lilyth began to hum softly to herself as she made her way down the long halls towards the laboratory. She was supposed to be helping Senior Enchanter Leorah with her inventory of the Tower's magical supplies but, quite frankly, she really didn't feel like it. Leorah was a pitiful woman, a truly pathetic excuse of an elf; always afraid of the humans, always so desperate for their praise. Lilyth had tried to tell the woman that humans were easy to deal with if one knew how. They naturally saw elves as beautiful, and it was simple enough to manipulate that. Men–and even women, in some cases–were such fools for beauty. But, the very idea had sailed right over Leorah's head.

"E... excuse me, L... Lilyth..."

The young woman turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw the templar Cullen stepping out of the library, with something of a nervous look on his handsome face. She smiled up at him and put a hand to her breast. "Oh! You startled me, Cullen!" It was all an act, to play the innocent and demure little sweetheart who charmed the hearts of everyone around her.

The templar turned a bright shade of crimson and shifted nervously, his eyes darting everywhere but her. He was such a handsome boy, but not really worth the effort. She preferred men who were confident and daring. Only the men who approached her on their own, who tried to seduce and protect her were worthy of her time. Cullen would _never _take the first step. He was too shy; always stammering, always blushing. She might have enjoyed the game of chasing him, but where would be the point? There would be nothing to be gained by seducing him–no doubt he would want something more than one night–and so she did not bother to try.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked sweetly.

"F... First Enchanter I-Irving... he wanted t-to see you." Her smile widened as she peeped up at him. She watched as his eyes traveled over her face, down her chest and body, before he got too nervous and looked away again.

"Thank you, Cullen." She practically whispered his name and fought the urge to laugh as his face flushed even redder. "I will go see him now."

**That boy's lucky that he'll escape your whorish grasp.**

_I am what my father made me._ She tossed one last, beautiful smile at the templar, and glided off towards Irving's study.

oOo

First Enchanter Irving sat behind the large desk of his office, with his withered hands laced together in front of him, his wrinkled face frowning in thought. Lilyth walked into the room expectantly, curious as to what it was that the old man wanted.

She only saw him on occasion; he rarely called her to his office. Every time he did, she half expected to see him use his position of power to make her some sort of disgusting offer; to attempt to bribe her with some tempting offer if she would spend a night with him. In her experience, men of power rarely hesitated to use that status to seduce a beautiful woman such as herself. The skill was to twist that power back into her own control. And Lilyth was nothing if not skilled.

So far, however, Irving had done nothing of the sort. He was always polite and gentlemanly, and always maintained a respectful distance. He seemed to act like a kindly old grandfather, but Lilyth knew better than to be fooled. She was well aware of how deep the darkness in him could go. It was the same sort of shadow that lingered in everyone, even shy little fools like Cullen, and it was only a matter of time before it emerged.

But, for this visit, it seemed that the First Enchanter wasn't alone in his office. As Lilyth entered the study she saw a dark-skinned man standing beside the desk with his hands clasped behind his back and a weary look in his black eyes. He was dressed in full armor, with a sword and dagger against his back, and held himself like a warrior. Lilyth studied him with interest, but soon looked away. _Mmm... too dark for my tastes._

Instead, she turned her attention to Irving. "Hello, First Enchanter," she said lightly. "Cullen said that you wished to speak with me."

Irving nodded and gestured to the dark man. "Before we get to that, I'd like to introduce you to Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden."

"Greetings, Duncan."

The dark man nodded. "And you as well."

"He is here as my guest," Irving continued.

"Oh? Does he require my assistance with something?" Lilyth asked. She was intrigued by this dark stranger. He must be important to be a guest of the First Enchanter. She had heard the name "Grey Warden" before, but had no idea who or what they were, and was eager to learn. In her opinion, there was no such thing as pointless knowledge. Who knew when some random bit of information could be useful one day?

Irving shook his head. "No, I asked you here for a different reason." Lilyth reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the Grey Warden and looked at the First Enchanter. "I have received some disturbing reports from Greagoir." His eyes narrowed. "Reports of blood magic being used by some of the mages."

It was almost as if time froze. Lilyth took great care to keep her face a mask of inquisitive concern, but her mind was racing. _Do they know? No, think clearly. Now is not the time to panic. There is no way anyone found out. I am no abomination; the templars cannot sense it on me. I have not even used my spells since I came here. He must be referring to someone else. It is fine; hold your head up and find out what he knows._

**It would serve you right. I hope they cut off your lying head and feed your body to the wolves.**

"Blood magic?" Her voice came out in a tiny thread; Irving would think that she was just frightened of such powerful magic. "Are you sure? Who is using it?"

"Greagoir claims to have proof, and in this instance I am willing to trust him." Lilyth's heart was pounding against her chest as the First Enchanter sighed heavily. "But, we don't know for sure who is involved, and I don't wish to make any mistakes by sentencing an innocent mage to the Rite of Tranquility." He picked up his head to look at her. "What we need is another mage; someone who can discover who is using the forbidden magic and give us information."

Lilyth found herself almost giggling in relief, but at the last moment she managed to keep herself under rigid control. _Oh ho, this is too perfect! _"And you wish for me to discover these mages?" She bit her lip and shook her head sadly, as if nervous; all the while, she wanted nothing more than to dance in delight. "Blood mages are powerful. What if they find out and somehow control me?"

Irving nodded sympathetically. "I understand what it is I am asking of you, but I don't want you to do anything reckless. Just talk to the other mages, listen to the rumors floating around, watch their habits, that kind of thing. Tell me if any of them are sneaking out of their rooms in the middle of the night. But, I don't want you to confront them, or put yourself in any danger."

She twisted her hands together as if anxious and nodded hesitantly. "I can... try, ser. Is there anyone in particular that I should be watching?"

"Right now, we suspect the apprentice Jowan and some of the young mages he has been sneaking around with." Irving smiled at her. "I trust you, Lilyth. With this, and with future tasks. You know, we are planning to elevate you to a Senior Enchanter soon."

Lilyth kept her eyes down to hide the leap of triumph. At last! This was what she had worked for, the whole reason that she had taken on the image of an innocent and sweet woman when she knew she would be taken to the Tower. Despite what some people claimed, Lilyth knew that there was no real escape from the Tower. Some, like that gorgeous fool Anders, believed that if they could just get far enough away, they could stay hidden.

But, Lilyth knew better than that. They were full mages of the Circle; their phylacteries had been taken to Denerim, and the templars could use their blood to find them. But, once one held the title of Senior Enchanter, they were free to come and go from the Tower on various tasks throughout Ferelden. And perhaps, with a little coaxing, Lilyth could find her way to Denerim and destroy her phylactery. _Then _she would be free to escape.

"I am honored to hear that, ser," she said.

Irving nodded, and it was clear that her audience was over, but Lilyth wasn't quite ready to leave just yet. She hesitated, perfectly poised with an innocent look. "If I may, First Enchanter, I should like to ask Duncan a question or two."

Irving glanced at Duncan, who nodded warmly. Lilyth smiled at the dark man. "I am curious as to why a Grey Warden would be here in the Tower. Unfortunately, I know almost nothing of your order, but are you looking for new members?"

Duncan sighed heavily. "There is a war brewing in the south. The darkspawn have broken through the surface, erupting from the Deep Roads. I am afraid that a Blight is beginning; the Grey Wardens will need every able bodied mage to help fight it."

Irving nodded. "We have already sent some of our Senior Enchanters to help the king in his battle."

"Are only the Seniors allowed to go?" Lilyth asked.

"I am afraid so." Irving smiled in sympathy. "I know that most of you are eager to leave the Tower, but the templars don't want the mages to use this war as an excuse to try and escape. Besides, you have a task to do, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow.

Lilyth dipped her head obediently, hiding her irritation. "Yes; I understand. I will leave you both to your work." As she left the room, she paused to smile at Duncan. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you, dear girl."

oOo

That night, Lilyth lay alone on her bed, smiling up at the ceiling. Anders had been eager for a second night with her, but she had pretended to be ill so that she could have the night to herself. She lifted up the crystal amulet and toyed with it, turning the beautiful jewel over in her long fingers. She had spent the entire day in the library, learning all that she could about the Grey Wardens, and now it seemed as though two paths had perhaps been opened up before her, rather than simply one.

She had learned that the Grey Wardens could not be commanded by anyone; not the king or queen, not even the Chantry. That meant that if she could somehow find a way to join their order, she would be free from this accursed place. The templars could not use her phylactery to track her, though she would be a fool to trust that. But, she should have an easier time finding her way to Denerim if she was a Grey Warden.

**Did you not also discover that the Grey Wardens are noble heroes, men and women who sacrifice themselves for the good of others? They are everything you're not.**

Lilyth stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "You are so very mean to me. The Grey Wardens are powerful men and women who use their strength to fight the Blight." Her lips curved up in a smile. "I should think that you, of all creatures, would acknowledge my power. After all, I managed to trap _you_, did I not? Very few mages can claim something like that. I should think that my powers could be quite useful against the Blight."

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "But, if they do not accept me, I can still become a Senior Enchanter and travel to Denerim that way. And all I must do is turn in a few foolish blood mages."

Lilyth giggled to herself, delighted in the way that fate had played out for her. Really, she _was _quite a lucky woman. It would seem that even the Fates were on her side. Why else would they have placed her with such hopeless guardians? Puffed up templars who vigilantly watched the doors, but forgot all about the windows.

_She _was a blood mage, but the fools of the Tower were too stupid to see it, all because she had batted her eyes and played the weakling for nine years. Who could ever suspect such a damaged woman, a beautiful girl still traumatized over the death of her family?

They had been suspicious at first, of course. After all, few truly believed that at sixteen, Lilyth hadn't known that she was a mage. Greagoir had instantly forced her through her Harrowing as soon as she arrived, determined to see if she could resist a demon. When she easily passed, the idiots began to relax around her. It was now the general belief that she had been a common apostate, and was simply too afraid to admit it. But, since she was now safely in the Tower, guarded by fools, no one truly cared. Especially since she hadn't tried to escape.

**Yet you never use your blood magic. Is it because you're not as powerful as you think?**

Lilyth grasped the amulet tightly in her white hand and forced a sharp wave of energy through it until she could hear the screams of pain in her mind. "Your lack of faith truly hurts my feelings, you know. The templars _look _for signs of blood magic; I would be a fool to use it in such a place as this." She smiled. "But, once I manage to escape, it will be quite a powerful tool to have."

_And, all I have to do is either hand over a few mages to the hangman, or join the Grey Wardens. Neither of which should be too much trouble. _She was well aware of which mages had turned to blood magic and which hadn't. She didn't need to follow them about like a hunting dog to know who to turn in.

In fact, it was a constant source of amazement to her, to know that the templars had no clue. So far, she had kept her silence about who was a blood mage. She didn't normally involve herself in the affairs of others unless there was some profit in it for her. And of course, now there was.

A blood mage used the strength of their own blood to power their spells. They could control minds, siphon the life force out of others, or even set fire to the blood of their enemies. It was very powerful and very hard to combat but, despite what the Chantry believed, a blood mage was not required to speak with a demon to learn such spells.

Blood magic was like any other magic; an apprentice could be taught by a mage who already possessed the skill. There was no need for _any _demonic interaction. However, finding a mage who knew the spells and was willing to teach it was a difficult matter, which is why so many mages turned to demons. Demons had no qualms about passing on such skills, though they always extracted a price. Lilyth shook her head. Only a fool trusted the word of a demon.

Irving's words came back to her, and Lilyth shifted her hands under the back of her head, mulling over his comments. If the templars did not know for certain who was practicing blood magic, that meant that the mages weren't contacting demons. Templars were trained to sense and discover demonic possession, but if a mage learned blood magic without the aid of a demon, the followers of Andraste were unable to discern them from any other mage.

But, to those who knew what to look for, finding a blood mage was as simple as breathing. They were the ones who always appeared drained, though life in the Tower was hardly taxing. It took a lot of skill to pull only a small amount of blood, and most blood mages tended to use too much, which inevitably left them exhausted and sickly.

Of course, if some mages _were _learning blood magic without contacting a demon–and Lilyth was unable to sense demonic possession like the templars–that meant that someone was teaching them. Lilyth smiled to herself, not for the first time wondering who was doing such a thing. They must be very clever and discreet.

Well, with a shrug, she decided that it didn't matter. The only questions she should consider were how to convince Duncan to recruit her, and who to turn over to Irving. _Perhaps I should just give all their names._ It wasn't like any of the blood mages meant anything to her. If they were too stupid to ensure their own survival in the Tower, why should she owe them anything? Only the strong survived; there was no room in life for the weak.

**Claim strength as much as you wish, but we both know you're nothing but a pathetic waste of life.**

Lilyth suddenly sat up in her bed and held the amulet in front of her, gazing into the flicker of light that sparkled beneath the crystal. "Aw, are you still angry? It has been _nine years_, you know. One would think you would have accepted your fate by now. I am _never _going to let you go."

Her lips parted into a feral smile. "It is a strange irony and the perfect revenge, do you not think so, Daddy?"


	2. Chapter 2

**II. Dancing with the Devil's Past**

"_Still _nothing!" Lilyth slammed the large weathered book shut and leaned back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. "Nothing even _remotely _helpful."

She drummed her sharp nails irritably against the dark wooden table, eying the pile of books in front of her. They were all useless. Written by men and women hailed as some of the greatest mages in the history of Thedas, yet none of them even came _close _to helping her find a solution. It was really getting to be quite frustrating.

_I must keep looking. The answer has to be in here somewhere. _With an air of impatience she stood up from the chair and wandered over to one of the shelves of the library, letting her fingers dance across the spines of the books.

**Such evil magic should be kept hidden from creatures like you.**

Lilyth let out a musical laugh. "Oh, I do not know about that. I should think it could be quite useful. Perhaps I might choose to do it again."

She continued to smile–her mood improving as it always did when Daddy grew offended–as she looked through the shelves. There were hundreds of book in this section of the library and she had read through at least half of them, probably more. But, she still had no answer. Part of her was vexed by the lack of solution, but the other part was delighted by the challenge. It was a wonderful riddle, an enchanting puzzle.

**You find such twisted magic fun?**

Lilyth's smile widened; she always loved it when Daddy became so outraged. She stroked the crystal as one might lovingly pet a cat. "Of course, Daddy. You, of all people, should know how much enjoyment I take from things like this." She let the amulet drop against her chest. "Now, be silent so that I may focus."

The common part of the library was open to all mages, but few students took the time to read books that focused on the study of the mortal soul. Most preferred to enrich their knowledge of Fade spirits; some of the more daring studied the demonic entities of the Fade. But, Lilyth was curious about the mortal soul. What happened to it when the body died? Was it a tangible being, or an entity that could not be felt?

The templars found her interest extremely odd, but overall harmless. After all, a mortal soul, by itself, had nothing to do with the Fade. A soul could not possess a mage; it had no power on its own. Even the soul of a mage was largely harmless, since it had no actual power of its own. A mage needed their physical bodies to dip into the current of energy that swirled around the world; without that energy they were harmless. The soul of a mage was just like any other.

But, unlike her peers, Lilyth studied all she could on the mortal soul. "If I could simply discover what happened that night, perhaps I might be able to do it again." She fingered the amulet lovingly as her dark blue eyes scanned the books in front of her.

**You wish to trap another innocent?**

Lilyth almost choked on her laughter. "Oh, now, Daddy, you are hardly an innocent." She lifted the crystal and looked at the glimmer of light, the spark of her father's soul trapped inside. Her smile widened. "Deny it to yourself all you wish, but you know _exactly _why I trapped you."

**Nothing justifies what you've done to me!**

Daddy began to sob and pulse against the inside of the crystal, pathetically attempting to beat his way out. Lilyth put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle. Nothing cheered her up quite like hearing Daddy beg, and scream, and cry. Nothing made her laugh quite like watching him desperately–and pointlessly–try to escape.

_The mortal soul really is quite a stubborn and resilient thing_, she thought to herself. Daddy had spent nine years trapped within the beautiful crystal, with no hope of release, yet still he continued to beg for freedom. Still he had been unable to accept his predicament.

But, slowly, over the course of time, she could feel his mentality slipping away. Sometimes he would beat and scream against the crystal for hours at a time, and then his words would become incoherent, a jumbled mess. Then, he would babble and turn crazed. When she tried speaking with him, it almost felt as though there was nothing there.

After nine years, Lilyth had started to think that Daddy would finally lose himself. What a joy that would be! She was looking forward to it, eager to see what would happen next. What would the soul become? Could she warp it into a personality that suited her, like an empty vessel waiting to be filled? Or, would it simply disappear altogether? Considering how Daddy acted when he went crazy, Lilyth assumed it would be the latter. But, that was fine with her. If he disappeared completely, she would be free to turn her attention to her next idea.

She felt the sobs of hopelessness and let the amulet fall against her chest. Daddy's terror and devastation was truly such a delight to hear, but she really should focus on her task.

Lilyth nibbled her thumbnail and gazed thoughtfully at the titles before her. _I do not think it shall be in anything that deals with the Maker. I am looking for the study of mortal souls, not religious nonsense. Hmm... this one does look interesting. _She pulled one of the books from the shelf. "The Mind of the Soul."

She took the book back to the large table and started flipping through the pages, looking for something that might stand out. Daddy was still beating against the crystal and sobbing, but she tuned his voice out. She was used to his cries and, though she loved it, now was not the time to indulge in such pleasure.

If she could only figure out what happened that night, she could do it again. She could bring Letia back from death.

To this day, Lilyth had no idea of how she managed to trap Daddy in the first place. The only thing she remembered was anger and an overwhelming pleasure. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, bringing to mind that wonderful, magical night, when her family had finally learned their fatal mistake.

oOo

_It had been the middle of the night, and everyone in the house was asleep, except for Daddy. As usual, he had forgotten to lock the door. When Lilyth entered the house, she saw him sitting at the shabby table tossing down drink after drink, in much the same position as she had last seen him. Lilyth smiled and took two steps closer to the drunken man, who winced at her approach._

"_Daddy, why do you flinch from me?" She pouted and twirled a lock of shiny black hair around her slim finger. "I came home to see you, you know. Oh, I missed you and Mama, and my brothers."_

_The old man glared at his beautiful daughter and took another gulp of his ale. "So, you came home, did you? Well, there's nothing for you here, girl."_

_Lilyth giggled and clapped her hands together. "I am not a little girl anymore, Daddy. I am all grown up now." She took another step closer, watching as his eyes slowly dulled. She recognized the look, for she had seen it many times on many men. The alcohol was slowly claiming all of his senses. He was too drunk to focus on anything. He looked at her as if he couldn't remember who she was anymore. "I have been away for eight long years. I am sixteen, now, and the favorite of the Mistress. She taught me many things."_

_Daddy's eyes traveled over her body; she could see that he no longer recognized Lilyth as his daughter. Intoxicated with a mixture of disgust for him, and excitement over what she was about to do, she leaned over his chair. He could smell the perfume of from her hair, and his hand tightened on the glass in front of him. He was trapped, and Lilyth almost started laughing._

_Men really were such hopeless creatures; easily manipulated by any woman with skill, and the knowledge to use it._

_She lifted her hand; slowly, as if to brush his cheek. He closed his eyes, reveling in the moment, unsure if what was happening was real, as she grazed a finger across his neck. Her smile widened, exposing her row of white teeth, as perfect as a string of pearls. She pressed her sharp nail into the soft flesh of his neck. Daddy gasped and flinched as his blood trickled down her finger._

_That was all she needed. Lilyth watched the ruby red blood seep out of the small wound, and knew that she had her way in. Blood had so much energy to give, and Lilyth wanted Daddy to suffer. She wouldn't kill him just yet._

oOo

Lilyth sighed in delicious contentment, remembering that fantastic night. She had frozen Daddy's blood, trapping him in one spot, forcing him to watch as, one by one, she woke up the rest of her family. One by one, she killed them all. Her mother and each of her three brothers. And Daddy had to watch it all. She made him listen to their cries of help, their screams of pain; she made him watch as the life was forced out of their bodies. She forced him to watch as she lured a stranger to their home and destroyed him with her magic.

The terror in Daddy's eyes, as he watched his daughter slaughter so many people, had been so gloriously wonderful to see. She had taken her time with him; she wanted him to feel every single, terrified moment. When it was finally time to end it, when Daddy had suffered horribly and was dying in front of her, Lilyth had pouted like a little girl denied a special treat. She had wanted to keep him alive forever, to hold him trapped and spend eternity watching him suffer.

But, there had been no way to do that. Lilyth was no fool. She knew the bodies would be discovered in the morning. There was no way for her to hide them and, due to her eagerness to kill them, she hadn't had enough time to plan an escape. The only way for Lilyth to keep herself from being charged with murder was to admit to her magic, confess to killing the "intruder" that broke into their home, and weep over the dead bodies of her family.

She knew that the guards would take her to the Circle Tower, but Lilyth hadn't been concerned with that. The Tower had plenty of knowledge to be discovered, and she had been eager for the chance to learn magic that the Mistress hadn't taught her. And when she was done, when she had learned all that the Circle had to offer, she would plan her escape. Simple as that.

But, something had happened when it had been time to kill Daddy. Somehow, as his soul was finally freed of its earthly pain, it had become trapped in the amulet she wore around her neck. The amulet she had stolen from one of her customers.

Lilyth was, of course, eager to find out exactly how she had done it. But, so far, the Circle had nothing to offer her; not even theories. She flipped through the book open in her hands. It seemed to be just like all of the rest, useless to her. _Perhaps, once I leave the Tower I should travel to Tevinter. They are, perhaps, the only ones who would delve into such power, and the Mistress always spoke highly of the bold magics they practice there._

Yes, that sounded like a fine plan. When she was finally freed from the stone confines of the Tower, she could make her way to Tevinter. Perhaps she could even apprentice with another magister. Lilyth licked her lips, enticed and excited by the grand future ahead of her.

oOo

The evening meal was almost finished. The crowd gathered together in the hall was slowly thinning as some of the mages and templars got up from their tables, walking off towards the common room where they would play games or gossip until it was time for bed.

Lilyth idly played with her food, ignoring the enthusiastic chatter around her. She didn't much feel like eating. The food of the Circle Tower was so bland and tasteless; nothing like the rich delicacies the Mistress used to feed her.

Other mages her age sat around the table with her, gossiping about who was sleeping with who, which templar was good for a tumble and which wasn't, and whether Greagoir knew of all the thumping, or if he was really ignorant as he pretended. Lilyth smiled to herself. Really, the Tower was almost as rowdy as a whorehouse. With men and women trapped inside a stone tower each moment of every day, with nothing to do but practice magic while the templars kept watch every second, was it any wonder that the adults hopped from bed to bed constantly?

On the other side of the table, directly across from her, Anders kept tossing her sly looks out of the corner of his beautiful eyes. Lilyth, however, pretended to ignore him. He had been good enough to share her bed–and she would undoubtedly consider him again in the future–but she felt like sleeping alone that night.

Next to her, a rather pretty woman named Gloria leaned in and whispered to Lilyth conspiratorially, "So, girlie, tell me what's with those looks Anders keeps giving you. Is it true you slept with him?"

Lilyth nodded absentmindedly, still frustrated by today's lack of progress. Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps the Circle Tower really _didn't _have information on the mortal soul. Or perhaps, if it did, the information was locked up in Irving's office, in which case she highly doubted she would be able to access it.

But, Gloria wasn't to be halted. "Well? How was he? Worth the chase?"

Lilyth couldn't help but chuckle. Of all the people in the Tower–mage and templar alike–Gloria was perhaps the only one that Lilyth might consider a friend. Not only was she a powerful mage, but she was an attractive woman who knew how to wiggle her hips in just the right way to get whatever she needed. She also knew that Lilyth's story of how she came to the Tower–that she used magic on an intruder who killed her family–was a lie. Gloria certainly didn't know the truth but she did suspect. However, she never judged Lilyth for it or even hinted at it to anyone else, and Lilyth respected that about her.

"Why do you want to know?" Lilyth asked. "Do you wish to try for him too?" It was a common situation for the two women. They often passed men back and forth, and then stayed up half the night comparing their experiences.

Gloria giggled. "I might," she said coyly, "if he's worth the effort."

"Oh, I would say that he is _definitely _worth the effort."

"That's all I need!" Gloria said cheerfully. She turned her attention to Anders and peeped up at him through lowered lashes; he saw the inviting look and gave her a seductive smile. Lilyth watched the exchange with amusement. The Mistress had taught her that women should always be in control of their own desires or passions. As long as a woman retained control, a man was helpless against her.

After a short time, she got up from the table. Gloria looked up at her. "Where are you off to?"

"I am going to the training room. Would you care to join me?"

The mage shook her head. "No, not tonight. You go have fun. I think I'll start the chase tonight." She winked. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

Lilyth smiled and drifted off towards the training room. She passed by many mages on her way and nodded politely to them, keeping her disgust locked away. _Pitiful creatures. None of them have any idea what true power is. _None of these mages could hold a candle to the Mistress. It was she who taught Lilyth her magic. She turned Lilyth into her pet, taught the young woman the beautiful art of blood magic, and showed her how to hide her talents. She also taught Lilyth how to enjoy the feel of holding someone's life in her hands.

**She turned you into the monster that you are.**

Lilyth chuckled. _So, you found your mind again? A pity. I was hoping that this time you would lose it completely. Though I suppose it will not be much longer now. _

She continued down the hall, softly humming to herself. Tonight, she had decided to practice hexes and the training room would be empty at this time. Most of the mages and templars would be in the common room, and Lilyth wanted some peace and quiet.

But, as she passed by the library, she heard someone rustling around inside and stopped. _Oh, what is this? A wily mage, sneaking off to learn forbidden secrets? _Her pink lips parted into a delighted smile. After evening meal, there were few mages in the library, which made it the perfect time to research dangerous subjects. And Lilyth would need to find proof of blood magic before she handed names over to Irving. After all, she could hardly just give him a list without explaining how she came by them. She could just imagine _that _conversation.

"_How do you know these are blood mages?"_

"_Well, you see, I know what to look for, being a blood mage myself."_

She chuckled to herself as she imagined the look on his withered face. Hoping to catch a mage studying something dangerous, Lilyth peeked her head into the library, and was both startled and intrigued to see that, instead of a mage, it was Duncan, reading through what looked like an ancient book.

Curious, she made a sound to catch his attention, and Duncan looked up. Lilyth hesitated in the doorway and glanced around as if nervous. _This is my chance! If I can charm him, he will recruit me and I can be free of the Chantry! _"Oh! I am terribly sorry; I did not mean to disturb you."

Duncan's smile reached all the way to his black eyes. "You're not disturbing me, dear girl. Is there something that you needed?"

Lilyth smiled and looked as innocent as she could. "Not at all. I simply heard someone moving about in the library and was curious as to who it was." She walked to the large table and studied the pile of books. "Though I must admit, it is very strange to see a non-mage interested in the subject of magic."

Duncan frowned at the large book in his hands. "Greagoir and I had a rather heated discussion about blood magic earlier. But, his knowledge on the matter is far superior to mine, so I thought to look into the subject."

She widened her eyes, trying to look surprised by his words. It was always better to play sweet with men in power. Of course, it wasn't _too _hard for her to look caught off guard, since it was very strange to hear someone say the words "blood magic" so casually. "Blood magic? It is a forbidden art."

Duncan sighed, as if he was weary of hearing such words. "I am aware that the Chantry has forbidden it, but there have been Grey Wardens who have used blood magic against the Blight."

Lilyth was genuinely surprised now, and that didn't happen very often. She leaned forward eagerly. "Really? So, you do not see it as an evil magic?"

The Grey Warden studied her thoughtfully. "We must use every tool at our disposal to end the Blight. The Archdemon is a greater threat to the world than any blood mage or abomination. It takes decades for the world to recover from a Blight."

_An intelligent man. Far more practical than any other I have met. _Lilyth kept her eyes down as her long fingers danced across the table. "That is quite the controversial opinion. I assume the Chantry would not be pleased to hear you say such a thing."

Duncan seemed to find that amusing. "Yes, well I do not share that opinion with just anyone." He regarded her with a sly look. "But, I suspect that you would understand such views better than most, wouldn't you?"

Lilyth immediately froze, studying the Warden through narrowed eyes as one might watch a dangerous wolf crouching in a corner. "Now, why would you say something like that?" she asked slowly.

"I saw the look on your face when Irving brought up the subject of blood magic and I'm not a fool. But, if anyone suspected, I highly doubt that Irving would have asked you to search for blood mages. I can only assume that you are smart enough to hide your talent."

Lilyth watched him thoughtfully, wondering at the next step she should take. _So he knows, or at the very least suspects. But, he has said nothing to Greagoir or Irving. If he had, I would already have been made Tranquil. Perhaps he intends to keep my secret. If his thoughts of blood magic are true, perhaps he will realize how much talent I can bring to the Wardens._

Convinced that perhaps honesty was the best way to go, Lilyth dropped her innocent act and lifted her chin, an amused smile on her beautiful features. "You are very clever indeed, Duncan. I am not an abomination; I never spoke to a demon and so the templars cannot sense my magic. The only way they can tell if a mage has turned to blood magic is if that mage carries the demonic taint of the Fade."

The Warden studied her curiously. "But, why would you learn such an art here in the Tower? Surely you must know how foolish an idea that is."

Lilyth shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "I learned the art before I came to the Tower. The woman who taught me was a powerful magister."

Duncan frowned. "A magister? From the Tevinter Imperium?"

"That is where she is from, although she currently lives in Ferelden."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand. If you were studying with a magister, how did you end up in the Tower? Surely she would never have sent you here; the Imperium denies the rule of the Chantry."

Lilyth lowered her eyes to veil the leap of amusement in them. "I came home to visit my parents, and my magic was discovered." Duncan was obviously shrewd; she would be a fool to outright lie to him, so she wouldn't even try. Far better to remain vague, to let him draw his own conclusions.

But, Duncan didn't seem inclined to let the matter go. "Irving spoke to me of the unfortunate situation that occurred in your home." He thought for a moment. "So... you came home to visit, the same day your parents were tragically murdered..." His voice carried deep meaning.

**He knows what you did. I hope he accuses you of murder. I hope they execute you and your body hangs from the gallows.**

_Even if I die, your situation will remain the same, Daddy. _Lilyth lifted her head. "You seem to know quite a lot."

Duncan closed the book in his hands. "The Grey Wardens often recruit thieves and murderers into our ranks. It does not matter what a man or woman's past is; we will do whatever is necessary to end the Blight."

Lilyth studied him with renewed interest. "You are thinking of recruiting me?"

"Possibly." Duncan put the book back on the shelf and turned to her with his arms crossed. "I have been told of your skill with magic, of how quickly you learn spells. If you have truly hidden blood magic for so many years, it's obvious that you're resourceful. But, if I am to recruit you, I must know what I'm getting."

_This is it! This is my chance! _All she had to do was tell him the truth. She could hear the honesty in his voice, and didn't think that he would run to the templars. But, even if he did, she couldn't pass up this chance to worm her way into the Grey Wardens. If he decided to betray her, she had many plans on how to escape prison. It was a fool who planned only to win. And she was certainly _not _a fool. Long ago she planned ways to escape if anyone found out about her magic.

She lifted her chin and looked him square in the eyes. "I murdered my family," she said simply.

Duncan nodded as if he had expected that. _Oh, he is far more clever than I thought. A man to rival the Mistress. Or, perhaps he is no stranger to murder himself. _"May I ask, why you did such a thing?"

Lilyth shrugged. It would do no good to show him how pleased she still was, how the mere memory of those murders kept her up at night, squealing with laughter. Far better to act detached, as if she had removed herself from the memories. "It was only right, and just, that I did so. Daddy killed someone very close to me, while Mama and my brothers stood silent and watched."

"Someone close to you?"

Lilyth could hear Daddy screaming in her mind. She felt the overwhelming guilt at what he had done eating away at his mind, but it made no difference to her. "My little sister, who was five. And, when Daddy realized that I would tell someone what he had done, he and Mama sold me to the Mistress."

"How old were you?"

"I was eight."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "And the thief? Who supposedly broke into your home?"

Lilyth had to fight back a giggle. "Well, _he _simply had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, he did give me the opportunity to stage a break in. I claimed that I used my magic in self defense, and the guards didn't care to look too much into it. We are, after all, only elves."

"So, they brought you to the Tower."

Lilyth inclined her head as Duncan watched her face closely. Finally, after a time, he sighed, as if he had reached a difficult decision. "Very well. I will speak with Irving." With a polite nod he walked out of the library, leaving Lilyth alone.

In the silence, Lilyth thought over their conversation. She slowly became aware of Daddy sobbing and screaming, apologizing for his actions and begging to be released. Lilyth closed her eyes and listened to the delicious pain emanating from the amulet for a time, before she realized that the cries had become shouts of hysterical anguish. Soon his words were slurred and jumbled, and she could feel a sort of crazed madness coming from him.

_That is right, Daddy. Lose yourself. Lose your mind, and do it quickly. I am growing tired of you, but I shall never release you to eternal peace. But, once you are gone, I can find her and bring her from the Fade. I can show her all of the pleasures of life, all of the wonderful things she missed. The things she missed because of you._

Lilyth hugged her slim body and giggled happily to herself.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are lurking! The response to Lilyth's story has been just amazing, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to know that so many people are enjoying it. It's really an inspiration, because Lilyth is so different from any other character I've written about._


	3. Chapter 3

**III. Slow Down Baby or You're Gonna Explode**

Sunlight sparkled off the dark waters of Lake Calenhad, shimmering brightly like dancing orbs of light. They sparked and twinkled, winking at Lilyth like amused conspirators, as if to share in her enjoyment, for she was free! She sat perched on the seat of the small boat, rocking back and forth with the gentle waves as Kester rowed her and Duncan to the docks.

Lilyth looked up at the blue sky, watching a flock of birds as they chirped and soared through the air, their exuberant wings beating against the wind as they flew towards their own freedom. She knew that, back at the Tower, some of the mages were clustered by the windows; all of them waving at her, shouting their farewells and wishes for a safe journey. But, never once did she look back at them. It was against everything she was, to look back. A mage such as herself always look forward; it was always onward and up with her. If a step collapsed before her, she jumped over it. If a sword broke in her hand, she found another. There was never time to hesitate or look back.

The boat finally reached the docks and, before Kester even had time to tie the ropes, Lilyth had already jumped out and was taking her first steps on the hard ground. She reveled in the feel of the fresh earth beneath her boots, the way the dirt shifted and crumbled as she pressed her foot against it. For nine long, tedious years, the only thing beneath her feet had been cold stone, cruel and unyielding.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, basking in the glow of her new found freedom. A light breeze fluttered through her hair, brushing the strands around to tickle her face, and the bright sun beat strongly from the clear sky. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel the warmth of the sun on her pale skin. Not even Daddy's screams of madness could dull this moment for her.

Duncan stepped out of the boat, slipping their packs over his shoulder, and nodded his thanks to the ferryman before turning to Lilyth. "There are two more recruits waiting for us at the inn. We will go and collect them, and start our journey to Ostagar at once. We have much ground to cover, and I'd like to get started as soon as possible."

Lilyth nodded absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what he said. Daddy's howls of pain had finally roused her from her dreamy state; she touched the crystal amulet, trying to figure out what it was that was bothering him. He had been screaming since last night, when she had spoken to Duncan in the Circle library. Daddy's shouts were really starting to vex her, but nothing she said or did seemed to have any sort of effect. He didn't respond to her words or punishments, or even pause momentarily in his mad shouts. He just continued to scream, almost as if broken by pain. Such nonsense, surely! She hadn't punished him _that _badly, certainly not enough to cause _this _sort of theatrics.

As Duncan walked up the hill towards The Spoiled Princess, Lilyth let the amulet fall against her chest and practically danced after him. She would _not _let Daddy's insane screaming spoil her good mood. She was free! Free, free, free!

Of course, she was going to have to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, but such a situation was easily acceptable. After gaining Irving and Greagoir's approval for Lilyth to join, Duncan had asked her all manner of questions about her blood magic, wanting to know every detail of how it worked. Once satisfied that Lilyth knew what she was doing, he had firmly stated that such power would be extremely useful against the darkspawn. For the first time in her life, Lilyth was free to use her true power. She would never again have to worry about the templars storming her room, forcing her into the Rite of Tranquility.

They walked into the inn, which was a run down and disgusting little place, to her critical eyes. Lilyth looked around at the faded paint, wooden tables and dirty chairs; she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the stench of mildew and rotten food. Before she had come to the Circle Tower, Lilyth had been used to living in elegant surroundings. Fine silks, warm, thick furs, and exquisite flower arrangements. The Mistress had always made sure that she was surrounded by the best of the very best, and Lilyth had been disappointed to learn that the rest of the world didn't share her extravagant ways.

Duncan walked over to two men who sat at the back of the room, nursing their drinks silently. One of them lifted his head as he heard their approach, and waved his arm. "Oi, Duncan!" The other man looked up from his drink, but by the sour expression on his face, it was clear that he wasn't enthused to see them.

Lilyth followed Duncan to the table and inspected the two men with a cynical gaze. To her, it appeared as thought they were cut from two very different cloths. One looked like an unkempt troublemaker, not unlike those filthy wretches who lived in the Alienage, while the other looked as though he had lived a life of luxury. If not for the scowl on his handsome face and the torn clothing, Lilyth might have thought that he was a noble.

Duncan nodded to the two men and gestured to Lilyth. "Allow me to introduce your fellow Grey Warden recruit. This is Lilyth Surana, a mage from the Tower." She noticed that he didn't mention her blood magic and suppressed a chuckle. Perhaps not _all _Grey Wardens would be as accepting as he was.

Lilyth lifted her chin and regarded the two men with calculating eyes. It was quite a refreshing change for her, to not be forced to bow her head sweetly and smile charmingly. Now that she was out of the Tower, she was free to be her true self; it was enough to make her want to laugh and toss her hair with abandon.

The unkempt man was eying her appreciatively, but Lilyth ignored him. Despite some rumors, she did have _some _standards, and she certainly had no desire to turn her smile on such a filthy man. Really, couldn't he have at least bathed while he waited for Duncan's return? He was free to worship her from a distance, of course. After all, she would never dream of scoffing at a man's desire to stare at her. She _was _an exceptionally beautiful woman. A man was only mortal; he couldn't help but be drawn into her beauty. But, that did not mean that she had to acknowledge his presence.

Duncan gestured to the man who was staring at her. At any moment, she half expected him to start drooling like some excited puppy. It was quite flattering, but really, enough was enough. One would think he had never seen a beautiful woman before. Although, she had to admit that he had probably never seen a woman of _her _beauty before. "This is Daveth." The man continued to stare at her while Duncan nodded towards the sullen man who hadn't bothered to look at them at all. "And this is Aedan Cousland." Aedan didn't even nod his head; he simply continued to glare at his drink.

Daveth jumped up from his seat and sketched a bow to Lilyth, as low as if she was a queen. Clearly, he had meant for it to flatter her, but it certainly wasn't the first time she had had men slobbering after her. "A pleasure to meet you, mi'lady."

Lilyth crossed her arms and regarded him smugly, tuning out Daddy's vexing screams, which echoed through her mind. "Yes, I am sure it is."

Daveth straightened up, unsure of how to respond to such words, while Lilyth continued to smile serenely at him, as if waiting for a response. It was such a delight, to confuse and irritate someone; she loved to watch the expressions flicker across their faces as they tried to puzzle over her words.

Duncan took the silence as an opportunity to clear his throat and regain their attention. "Daveth, I want you and Aedan to go and gather your things. We have much ground to cover."

Daveth tossed Lilyth one last confused glance before walking off towards the stairs, while Aedan sighed heavily, picked himself up from the table unwillingly, and followed suit.

While she waited, Lilyth leaned against the table and fingered the crystal amulet idly. She was _really _starting to get exasperated with Daddy's wails, and wanted to know exactly why he was acting so crazy. True, he had screamed and sobbed before, but usually for no more than an hour or so. He had never acted like this for so long, and it was getting to be quite tiresome. Was this some new ploy of his? To try and drive her mad? Or, was it nothing more than a pathetic attempt to irritated her so badly that she finally released him?

As she was twirling the crystal around in her long hands, Daddy's shrieks were abruptly silenced, as if all the sound had suddenly been turned off. She frowned.

_Daddy?_

There was no answer; there wasn't even a flicker of life anymore. She glanced at Duncan. "I am going to wait outside," she said, as calmly as she could manage. "I have a sudden desire to feel the fresh air." At his nod, she glided out of the inn.

Once outside, she held the amulet up to the sky to see into it, searching for the familiar glimmer of light, the spark of Daddy's soul trapped inside. But, there was nothing there. It looked like a clear crystal, like any other.

_Daddy? Are you there? Answer me!_

Still nothing. She wrapped a long, pale hand around the crystal and sent a wave of energy into it. It was how she had always punished Daddy when he got on her nerves, but this time she could not feel the familiar pressure of an entity inside. There was nothing there.

She let the amulet fall against her chest and pursed her lips, her thoughts rapidly swirling around her mind. Had it finally happened? Had Daddy finally snapped and disappeared? Once again, she cursed the Circle and its lack of information on the human soul. If she had been able to find even a small bit of information, she would have been better prepared for something like this. As it was, she had no idea what to expect.

The door to the inn opened and Duncan came out, followed by the two men who were to be her fellow Grey Wardens. He nodded to Lilyth. "Let us be on our way."

She shrugged to herself and followed the three men away from Lake Calenhad. There was no time to do anything about the crystal now. She would simply have to wait and see if Daddy came back.

oOo

"The ruins of Ostagar," Duncan said grandly, sweeping his arm out to gesture to the crumbling walls and half destroyed statues of this place where the Grey Wardens were supposedly gathered.

Lilyth could barely work up the effort to even _feign _interest. They had been on the road for days, sleeping on the horrid ground, and hiking through such rough terrain that Lilyth was quite certain that her boots were going to have holes in them. She longed for nothing more than a deep soak in a warm bath and a slice of hot, fresh baked bread, but she managed to keep her silence and followed the three men into the ruins. Surely, once they had been introduced to the Wardens, they would be free to eat a hot meal and bathe themselves. Or rather, _she _would be able to bathe herself, since she was still of the opinion that Daveth had never even _seen _a tub of water in his life.

The moment she stepped inside the crumbling ruins, she was assaulted by the stench of hundreds of unwashed bodies and the shouts and cheers of men who couldn't seem to speak in a proper voice. She wrinkled her nose in distaste; she hadn't expected the place to be _this _barbaric.

Duncan led them across a bridge that looked as if it was going to collapse at any given moment and into a camp filled with what looked like thousands of men fighting, shouting, or scurrying about like disorganized ants. She and the two recruits were guided to a small section of the area; Duncan claimed that it was where the rest of the Grey Wardens were staying, and where they, too, would have tents set up for them.

A young man sat by one of the fires by himself, seemingly ignoring all of the sounds going on around him as he attempted to polish a rather pitiful looking sword. He looked up at their approach, and his face positively lit up when he saw Duncan.

"Duncan!" He jumped to his feet like an eager boy excited for a present. "The other Wardens were starting to wonder when you'd return!"

Duncan smiled warmly and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "I am glad to see you, Alistair." He gestured to Lilyth and the two men. "Allow me to introduce our new Grey Warden recruits. This is Aedan." Aedan nodded, his expression the same surly look he had had since Lilyth met him. She was starting to wonder why it was that he seemed so angry. He had barely spoken during their trip, and didn't even appear to have noticed her. It was quite confusing. Lilyth certainly wasn't used to being ignored–especially by a man–and she really didn't care for the experience.

"This is Daveth." Daveth wasn't even paying attention to anything they said. He appeared to have noticed some of the female soldiers and was busy looking around at them. "And Lilyth." Alistair's eyes rested on her, and she was positive that she saw his cheeks redden ever so slightly as she studied him with her dark blue eyes.

Duncan looked around at the camp. "Now, I must meet with the King and Teyrn Loghain. Alistair, I am leaving these three under your command. Show them around the camp, if they like, and help get their tents prepared."

As Duncan walked off, Alistair turned to study the three new recruits standing before him. He looked over them all, but Lilyth noticed that, when his eyes came to rest on her, he quickly looked away and his face reddened even further. Clearly, this was a man who grew embarrassed easily.

"Well," he said finally, after it seemed he had worked up enough courage to speak. "I suppose I should say welcome to the Grey Wardens."

Daveth finally broke off from ogling the young women and glanced at Alistair. "First things first then, where does a man get a bloody drink around 'ere?"

Alistair chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you _are _all hungry and thirsty. Let's get you something to eat. Do you want to join us, Aedan?" Aedan shrugged carelessly and Alistair turned to Lilyth. "How about you? You want to come, too?"

Lilyth shook her head. "No, I think not. I should like to look around the camp."

"Oh, that's fine. Take your time. Most of the other Wardens are in the training area, if you'd like to go introduce yourself." He pointed to a large clearing, where she could see a number of men tumbling and scuffling about. She nodded absentmindedly, and Alistair smiled before guiding Daveth and Aedan off towards a very large tent. She turned away from the three men.

Lilyth had better things to do with her time than wallow around in drink. Alcohol was nothing but a disgusting invention, created for the sole purpose of causing a man to abandon all good sense and do things that he might never normally do when he was sober. She knew, all to well, the dangers of a man too far gone into drink, and could never understand why it was that men loved it so.

She wandered lazily through the cluster of tents, searching for something to catch her attention, something to distract her, and began to feel a slight tingle in the air; a sense that set the hairs on the back of her neck on edge. Lilyth lifted her head, at once intrigued. She knew what the sensation was; magic was being used nearby.

_Oh, that is right. Did not the First Enchanter say that some of the Senior Enchanters had been sent to aid the King? _She was curious to see who it was that Greagoir would have allowed out of the Tower.

Lilyth drifted through the tents and, now that she was paying attention, it was easy to see where the mages were being kept. She could see a group of templars crowded near a group of tents, looking extremely tense and on edge, as if afraid that one of the mages would suddenly burst into abominations and start spewing out blood magic. She fought back the urge to giggle. As if those fools could truly recognize the touch of blood magic!

She started to walk over towards the tents, eager to flaunt herself before the templars. Never again would she be forced to listen to their orders; never again would they threaten her with bodily harm if she didn't do exactly what they said. She was as close to freedom as it was possible for a mage to get in this world, and she was eager to take advantage of it.

"Lilyth? What are _you _doing here?"

The low voice shook Lilyth from her joyful thoughts, and shifted her gaze to see one of the many people she truly disliked. Senior Enchanter Wynne stood near one of the tents, her arms crossed and a look of shock on her ancient face.

Lilyth glided serenely over to the old woman. Here was the perfect opportunity to show off, to take advantage of her new freedom. "Well, hello, Wynne. Fancy meeting you here."

The ancient mage frowned at her. "Indeed. But, you have not answered my question yet. Why are you here?"

Lilyth fought the urge to laugh in Wynne's withered old face. There was little love lost between the two women, and both were acutely aware of the others' dislike. Wynne was a servant of the Chantry, a slave who bowed to the templars without question or protest. Although Lilyth would acknowledge that the old woman was shrewd–she _was _one of a handful of people who suspected that Lilyth was not who she said she was–but she was still an annoying and preachy old woman who was good for nothing.

Lilyth clasped her hands behind her back; an demure gesture that would have conveyed innocence, had it not been for the haughty lift of her chin and the shrewd smile on her lips. "You have not yet heard? I have been brought to Ostagar as one of the new Grey Warden recruits."

The old woman's face puckered up into something of a scowl; she looked as though she had just bitten into a sour lemon. "They sent _you _to the Grey Wardens? Greagoir allowed such a thing?"

"Why ever should he not?" Lilyth's smile widened, exposing her row of perfectly white teeth. "I _am _an incredibly powerful mage, after all, and my talents can be far better served against the darkspawn than in the Tower. We all know that the Circle corrupts and crushes a mage's power, twisting it into a shell of what it once was." Her eyes sparkled cheerfully. "Thankfully, however, I was spared such a future. I am truly blessed, would you not agree?"

Wynne's face darkened with each word that Lilyth spoke. Her muscles tensed; she looked as though she wanted to call for one of the templars, but then it seemed as though she forced herself to relax. "Well," she said quietly, as if struggling to be polite, "it is my hope that you will serve the Grey Wardens honorably, but I fear that you only serve yourself."

"I am grateful for your concern," Lilyth said sweetly. "Especially since I fear for you as well. _I _fear that you are the largest sheep of the Chantry, and that your views are all skewed by what you have been told." She tilted her head quizzically, though her words were filled with malice. "How would you ever know what is right and wrong, when everything that you believe has been _told _to you?"

Wynne shook her head sadly. "Child, you are too brash, too impatient. But, I certainly hope that life within the Grey Wardens will provide you with the wisdom you lack."

Lilyth's smile widened even further. "Surely," she said quietly, "I will gain more wisdom from the Grey Wardens than poor Aneirin gained from you." Wynne let out a gasp–no one ever spoke of Aneirin in her presence–and Lilyth could no longer contain her laughter. It served the old woman right! Who was she, to lecture about life and wisdom when she had never actually experienced _anything_? "Look to your own life, Wynne, before you lecture me about mine."

oOo

The sounds of the camp slowly quieted down as night came and the men and women eased into slumber. Lilyth sat inside her own tent, one that had been designated for only her. Apparently, she was the only woman in the Grey Wardens, and so she did not have to endure the irritation of being forced to share sleeping quarters with anyone. Although that had made her quite happy, she had discovered that there was almost no fresh water to be had here, which meant that she hadn't been able to wallow in a hot bath. But, at least she had been able to find enough to wash her arms and face, so she was feeling a _little _bit cleaner.

She carefully lifted the flap to her tent and peeked outside. She didn't want to stay shut up inside a small area, sleeping the night away. But, she also didn't want to be bothered by a bunch of idiots. Thankfully, there were only a few men here or there, warming themselves by the fires and talking quietly amongst themselves. No one would pay any attention to her.

That was good. She wanted to smell the air, even if it _was _touched with the scent of tanned leather and the disgusting stench of sweaty men. She needed to remind herself that she was free. She needed to convince herself that she wasn't shut away in Daddy's moldy house in the Alienage, or trapped by the glittering, perfume-scented halls of the Mistress, or confined to the stone walls and cold rooms of the Tower.

Lilyth closed her eyes and felt the cool wind brush against her cheeks. When was the last time she had stood outside in the open so freely? Never. Or, if she had, it had been so long ago that she could no longer remember. For the first time in her life, she was free to be who she truly was. She long to show the world that she was more than a frightened daughter, and obedient whore, or a slave to the Chantry.

She lifted the crystal amulet and inspected the clear gem glittering in the light of the swollen, silver moon. It still remained silent. There had been no spark of energy, nothing at all for the past few days. It seemed that Daddy was truly gone. _What a pity. I had half hoped he might survive longer. I quite enjoyed punishing him._

Well, it didn't really matter. What was done was done, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Besides, she had plans to put the crystal to good use again. Lilyth walked over to one of the empty fires and sat down on a stone bench, bringing her legs up and resting her chin on her knees. Now, she could find a way to fill the stone with something beautiful. _Someone far more pure than Daddy. Someone who never got the chance to experience any of the pleasures of the world, because of a drunken sot who stole her precious life._

Could she really do it? Lilyth frowned at the fire. It would require traveling to the Fade–at least, she _assumed _souls went to the Fade–and seeking out a specific soul amidst millions of others. She didn't even know where in the Fade a soul fled. And then, if she _did _manage to find her, how was she to bring her back and put the girl in the crystal? And, if she managed _that_, what then? Would she disappear, like Daddy had done? Lilyth certainly didn't want to bring her any more pain. She wanted to show the girl happiness, all of the joys she had missed when her innocent young life had been stolen away.

Perhaps it would be better to wait, at least until she had a clearer idea of what to do. Perhaps, since the Grey Wardens obviously had no real problem with forbidden magics, she could convince Duncan–once this war was over–to allow her to travel to Tevinter. Surely _they _would know how to trap a human soul. And, even if they didn't, surely they would at least know where to look.

"You can't sleep either?"

Lilyth looked up to see the boy Warden, Alistair, smiling down at her. She frowned; she must have been far deeper in thought than she intended if he could manage to get so close without her even hearing him approach.

Without waiting for a response–or even an invitation–he sat down on the opposite end of the bench. Lilyth noticed the stiff set of his body and had to suppress a smile. The poor boy seemed so very nervous to be near such a beautiful woman as her. It made her want to taunt him; to tease him and watch his color rise; to confuse and baffle him for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.

"It _can _be daunting," Alistair said, barely looking at her, "to join such a large group of strangers. I know that you must have plenty of questions, and I'm sorry I can't answer many of them." Lilyth inclined her head silently, indicating that she didn't care one way or the other, but it didn't deter Alistair from prattling on. "We'll be able to tell you more after your Joining, and then we'll have our battle against the darkspawn. Duncan is hoping to stop the bulk of the horde here and draw the Archdemon out. Then, if luck is with us, we can kill it and end the Blight before it really begins."

Finally, he broke off his rambling and looked at her. Or rather, he looked in her general direction, but he still couldn't seem to actually meet her eyes. "So, tell me, where did Duncan find you, and why did he recruit you into the Wardens? I know Daveth said that he tried to cut Duncan's purse, and Aedan hasn't said much on the matter. But, most of us have a story about how Duncan came to recruit us."

Lilyth let out a low chuckle, watching from the corner of her eyes as the color rose in his cheeks. She had to admit that he _was _quite handsome. She had a thing for blond hair on men, and perhaps she could teach him that he didn't need to fear her. She didn't bite. Well, not much. "Duncan brought me from the Circle Tower."

Alistair looked somewhat taken aback. "You... you're a mage, then?"

"Of course. What else would I be?"

"Oh, well, I guess... I hadn't really thought about it." He shifted in his seat a little, and Lilyth pretended to pout.

"You do not like mages?"

At once, he held his hands up. "No! That's not it at all! It's just that... well, see, I was raised by the Chantry."

"Ah, and you were taught that all mages are evil and corrupt, no doubt." Lilyth was unable to keep the hint of bitterness from her voice.

"Well, no, I mean, yes, the Chantry _does _tend to fear magic, but I wasn't... I mean, I don't..."

Lilyth couldn't help but chuckle. It was rather amusing, to watch the boy Warden stumble over his words, fearing that he might insult her. Oh yes, teasing and confusing him could be quite fun indeed.

Apparently, Alistair decided that it was best to just continue on. "So, you're a mage then. You really don't like like one, you know?"

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, you don't carry a staff, for one thing."

Lilyth brushed a few strands of black hair behind her ear and watched as Alistair's eyes followed her movements. "Why should I need one? I was born with the perfect weapons." She stood up from the bench and walked behind him, stifling a laugh as she saw his body tense. She bent down, tracing a sharp nail across his cheek while she lowered her lips to his ear.

"Your blood, your body," she said softly, as intimately as if she was whispering to him in bed. "Both can be convinced to work against you." She straightened up and watched the blood flood his cheeks, painting his face scarlet. "_That _is why Duncan brought me to the Grey Wardens."

She turned away from the boy Warden and walked back to her tent without another word. The game had been started.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Sorry for taking so long to update. My muse got hijacked by other things and I couldn't really seem to get into Lilyth's character. Considering how different she is from other characters I've written about, I wanted to make sure I did her justice. Thank you for bearing with me._

_The inclusion of Aedan Cousland was one I wrestled with b/c the story is mainly about Lilyth. But, as the story progresses he's going to be needed, and after getting Suilven's opinion I was convinced to keep him in. Especially after she gave me some suggestions on how his personality should be._

_Many many thanks to my awesome beta Suilven! She's been such a huge help, fixing my ungodly amount of commas, repetition habits, and everything else!_

_Thank you also to everyone reviewing, reading, or requesting alerts. It really means a lot to me!_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV. Cold Flame**

Lilyth sat on one of the hard stone benches in the training area, watching silently as the rest of the Grey Wardens practiced their archery or trained with their swords, all in preparation for the coming battle against the darkspawn. She could tell that the men were anxious about it, by the way they nervously praised one another's skill, or hesitantly reassured each other that the battle would be fine. It seemed, to her, that they were terrified that the battle would, in reality, end in their deaths.

Though, it mattered little to her. If they were all to die, then so be it. _She _certainly wasn't going to die. Duncan could bring her to the Grey Wardens, but he certainly couldn't force her to sacrifice herself. Of course, she didn't truly think she was at any risk. He knew of her powers; surely he would know better than to stick her in the midst of all the fighting, where she would be an easy target. If he wished to use her magic to his advantage, he would place her above the fighting.

Lilyth leaned forward on the bench, watching as a man was hit too hard by his opponent's blunted sword. He crumpled to the ground, and the rest of the Wardens rushed over to him, shouting for a healer. She stifled a laugh as the men picked up their unconscious friend and took him over to the mages' tents. Since they were so distracted, they wouldn't bother her again for a little while, and she was pleased with that.

She had been informed earlier that day that the Wardens had wished to see her powers; that they had wanted to test her magical ability. But, of course, she had refused to comply. Duncan had warned her against using her blood magic around the camp. He didn't wish to cause problems with the templars, and Lilyth herself had no desire to parade her magic around a bunch of drunken fools. She had been tested over and over again in the Circle Tower; why should she wish to repeat the experience?

A few of the Wardens had grown angry, claiming that they needed to know where her strengths laid, so she had rattled off a list of her spells. She knew most of the spells along the Entropy field, as well as a few long the Spirit and Primal path, and had expected them to be impressed with her knowledge. Instead, they had been disappointed that she had no healing abilities. But really, why would she waste her time with such magic? There was little point in spending precious energy on a healing spell, when a potion would accomplish the same thing.

Lilyth pulled her legs up on the bench, rested her chin on her knees, and looked around the nearly empty training area. She found herself wondering what the Mistress would say if she saw Lilyth sitting here, amidst an army about to engage in battle. _Bitch would probably laugh at me. Or rather, she would laugh if she did not try to kill me first._

The corners of Lilyth's lips twitched into a pleased smile. She'd place any amount on a wager that the Mistress was still furious at her for running way. Mistress Brinna certainly wasn't known for her forgiving nature and, even though it had been nine years since Lilyth had disappeared, she was most likely still angry. After all, Lilyth _had _cost her a lot of money. If their paths ever crossed again, the Mistress would most likely try to kill her.

But, really, what other option had been available to her? After eight long years of serving Mistress Brinna, Lilyth had grown tired; tired of all the horrid things she had been ordered to do. She had seen the dead, numb look in the eyes of her fellow pets, and had no intention of becoming like them. None of the fine clothes, luxurious surroundings, or exquisite delicacies could make up for that. And, though the Mistress had taught her many things–blood magic, how to carry herself like a highborn lady, and how to wrap almost any man around her little finger–in the end, it hadn't been worth it.

She heard rough steps on the hard stone and lifted her eyes to see the silent Grey Warden recruit, Aedan, stomping towards her. When he saw her, he jerked his thumb towards the Grey Warden camp. "You, come with me. Duncan wants to speak with us."

"What a polite way to summon me," she replied smoothly, seeing Aedan's frown deepen. She slid off the bench and smiled sweetly at him. She couldn't deny that he was a rather handsome man, and it was quite a lot of fun to tease him and watch his face darken. "I must say, all that intense brooding is really quite attractive. Do the women of your home swoon in appreciation when you scowl at them?"

"I don't have a home," Aedan snapped, her flirtatious comment flying right over him. "And King Cailan doesn't even seem to mind!" He twisted around and marched off towards the Warden side of the camp.

Well, now Lilyth was intrigued. Who was this man, that he expected the king to care about his problems? She caught up to him. "Why should King Cailan concern himself with you?"

Aedan glared at Lilyth with a dark look that seemed almost burning in its hatred. "My father was one of the two Teyrns in Ferelden; we Couslands fought beside King Maric against Orlais! My father was at the battle of White River and, if not for _my _family, King Cailan's father might never have gained his throne!" He clenched his fists; Lilyth could see his knuckles turning white. "That bastard Howe slaughtered everyone in the castle, and when I took his betrayal to King Cailan, all he could say was that he'd deal with it _after _the battle!"

Well, that certainly explained why Aedan had been sullen and withdrawn since Lilyth had met him; she studied the handsome young man with renewed interest. She had never known the names of many nobles. Those who came to Mistress Brinna generally wished to keep their identities hidden, but Lilyth _did _know that a Teyrn was second only to the king.

If his family was _that _important, she could certainly see why someone would attack them. Lilyth had been raised in a vicious world; she knew that people often had to fight to get what they wanted. Those who took the time to worry about others were often lost. "Did your family do something to provoke this Howe?" she asked pleasantly, as if remarking on the weather. "Or, did he merely desire your wealth and title?"

Aedan clearly didn't appreciate her casual tone. But, really, what did he expect? For her to stroke his arm, pretending to sympathize? "My family did _nothing_! Howe and my father were friends; what he wanted was my father's title and wealth." His dark green eyes were as hard as gems. "And, like a coward, he couldn't even face my father directly. Instead, he sent his men to sneak into the castle under the cover of night and slaughter innocents who couldn't defend themselves."

"What a childish plan," Lilyth remarked idly. "If he wished to take over an entire castle, one would think he would not send in his own men, since they could be easily recognized."

"He killed my family!" Aedan nearly shouted, as if that was the only point.

Lilyth shrugged, fingering the beautiful crystal amulet around her neck. Unbidden, the image of her baby sister, Letia, swam in her mind's eye. Lilyth would never forget the night she had walked into her home to see Letia's poor little crumpled body. She gripped the amulet tighter and narrowed her dark eyes. "Then, do not wait for the king to handle this for you." Her lips curved up in a pleased smile as she thought about her revenge against Daddy. "If you wish to make this Howe pay for what he has done, do it yourself."

Aedan studied her face with a look of suspicion, but said nothing.

oOo

Lilyth crossed her arms and looked around at the disgusting forest that was the Korcari Wilds, her irritation growing worse at the scene in front of her. Before sending out into the Wilds, Duncan had warned them to take care; the darkspawn had taken it over, and it was clear that he hadn't been lying. The remnants of their victims were everywhere she looked. She could see impaled soldiers, dead bodies, blood-soaked trees, and strewn weapons all over this little clearing. It seemed like a portrait of death, as if some artist had tried to depict what the Void might look like.

She shook her head to clear her mind of such folly and, ignoring the dead bodies scattered everywhere across the forest, turned back to look at the men sent out with her. They had a task to accomplish and, though Lilyth wasn't exactly pleased at being sent out on such an errand, she was eager to just be done with it.

Ser Jory, an idiot soldier who was yet another Grey Warden recruit, inhaled sharply and looked around. His already pale face looked almost waxy; the hands that gripped his large sword were shaking. "Is this... the work of the darkspawn?" Lilyth shook her head. Really, who did Jory _think _did this?

"Yes, Ser Jory," Alistair said. "There are darkspawn in these Wilds, but we'll be fine if we're careful."

Aedan glanced at the boy Warden. "Well, where do we go from here? Didn't Duncan send you with us to guide us through the Wilds?"

"No, he went me because Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. I'll be able to warn us when they come, so that we're not caught off guard."

Lilyth clicked her tongue impatiently and hopped down from the large rock she had been standing on, taking care not to land in any of the thick mud. Her black boots were thick and comfortable, and rather pretty; she didn't want to get them all filthy. She was acutely aware that all of her efforts would probably be for nothing–after all, not only were they charged with collecting darkspawn blood, but then they had to also seek out some ancient Warden outpost, which meant that they would be here for a while. Still, that didn't mean that she had to stomp around in the mud.

Aedan walked briskly past her, impatience evident in his tense shoulders. He didn't seem to appreciate this task any more than Lilyth did. "Alistair, how many darkspawn are here?"

"I don't know," Alistair said. "I'm only a new Warden myself; I can sense that they're here, but I can't tell how many."

Lilyth put her hands on her hips and regarded the boy Warden irritably. "Would it not have made more sense for Duncan to send one of the senior Wardens with us? Surely _they _would have been more of a help."

Alistair flushed a dull red and mumbled something incoherently. Lilyth pursed her lips and rolled her eyes with a sigh. As handsome and fun to tease as Alistair was, she was beginning to think that he was rather hopeless. What was Duncan thinking, leaving someone like him in charge, when half the time the boy Warden acted as though he had no idea of what he was doing?

A soft cry of pain pierced the misty air, and Lilyth's attention was drawn to a pile of what looked like blood armor. But, then it shifted, and she realized that it was a wounded man, curled up on the ground while he tried to staunch the blood flowing from his wounds.

Alistair rushed to the man's side and knelt down. "What happened?"

The wounded man rolled onto his back and looked up at Alistair through dull eyes. "You... you're a Grey Warden? The darkspawn... they came out from the shadows... killed all... all the men..."

Jory inhaled sharply. "Darkspawn? Where are they?" He glanced around nervously while Daveth slowly pulled an arrow out of his quiver and notched it. Both men were tense and anxious.

Alistair jerked his head up. "They're nearby!"

As if they were summoned by his words, a small group of darkspawn suddenly broke free from the shadows. It was the first time Lilyth had ever seen them, and she was fascinated by their razor sharp teeth and blackened skin. They wore armor like humans, and carried weapons like humans, but they weren't humans. Her first strange thought, as she took them in, was that they almost seemed like creatures straight out of a fairy tale. They looked as though their outward appearances reflected the dark souls of mortal beings, as if their bodies were a warning of the fate that awaited all men.

Alistair shouted something and ran towards them with his sword ready, his shield held up to block their attacks. Aedan and Jory followed behind him, while Daveth ran to a large bolder that gave him a vantage point. Lilyth made no movement at first; she stood silently, watching the scene before her, and counted six darkspawn in total. She had never been in an actual fight before; usually, if she was to kill someone, she preferred a dark night and a sharp blade.

It was obvious that the men stood the risk of being outmatched. Daveth had decent aim at best, and it seemed that Aedan and Alistair were the only ones pulling their own weight. Soon, they, along with Jory, were surrounded by the darkspawn, but Lilyth saw that the greatest danger came from a seventh darkspawn standing a bit away from them, casting ominous spells from a large wooden staff. Clearly, the mage would have to be taken out first, and Lilyth could only see one way to do that. Not wishing to use herself for such a task, she glanced down at the wounded man, who had curled up into a frightened ball at the first sign of fighting. Yes, he would do quite nicely.

She walked over to the hurt soldier and knelt down beside him as she pulled out the small dagger she wore hooked to her belt. The man lifted his head slowly; she watched as the flicker of hope crossed his eyes, replaced with a dawning horror as he realized what she was going to do. Lilyth smiled kindly at him, patting his cheek as, in one swift movement, she brought the blade across his neck. Her smile widened as his fresh blood washed over her hands.

Lilyth had forgotten how powerful blood could be. There was so much energy to give, so much life to be used! She closed her eyes in a dreamy haze of wonder as the blood began to swirl around her slim hands. She stood up and pointed a long white finger at the group of darkspawn. At once, the liquid power shot towards them in one long, bloody tendril, and twisted around the vile creatures.

The darkspawn were frozen in place, trapped as Lilyth's power forced their own blood to boil and bubble. She could feel the electrifying energy charge through her body, so strong and heady that, for a moment, she felt as though she were invincible. The darkspawn began screaming, shouting helplessly as their own bodies began to work against them. Lilyth noticed that out of all her companions, Aedan was the only one who didn't bother to hesitate at seeing the darkspawn frozen. When he realized that his enemies were trapped, he quickly finished them off with his blades.

Soon the darkspawn were dead; Lilyth pulled back on the chain of blood and watched the red power swirl and dance around her hands. She had forgotten the potent feeling of blood magic. It had been so long; so very, very long.

Reluctantly, she released the blood from her command and watched, almost mesmerized, as it dropped towards the ground, staining the dull grass with bright droplets of red. Lilyth closed her eyes and sighed in contentment, enjoying the spark of power that still danced through her veins, sending shivers down her spine.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the men were all staring at her warily, as if she had suddenly grown a second head. Still somewhat drunk on the charge of power, Lilyth felt herself smile brightly at them.

"Was that... blood magic?" Alistair whispered nervously, as if the very words might summon a demon.

"Of course. What else would it be?"

Jory and Daveth looked as though they might faint, but Aedan simply watched her with a suspicious sort of curiosity, as if he didn't know what to make of her. Alistair gripped his sword tighter. "You're a blood mage! Does Duncan know?" he demanded.

She couldn't help but giggle at his horrified expression. "Of course he does. Why do you think he brought me to the Grey Wardens?"

"Duncan... wished for you to use your blood magic?" Aedan asked slowly.

The spark of power was slowly draining away; Lilyth could feel herself becoming a bit more grounded. She lifted her chin and studied him thoughtfully. "He told me that the Grey Wardens must use any power at their disposal to combat the Blight, and that Wardens of the past have used blood magic."

"But the Chantry forbids it!" Jory suddenly burst out.

Lilyth glanced up at him through lowered eyelids. "The Chantry forbids quite a lot."

"What about demons?" Aedan asked curiously.

She waved a hand dismissively. "As if I would be foolish enough to pledge myself to a demon. I learned my talents elsewhere." She had better things to do than educate these fools. One didn't need to contact a demon to learn blood magic, but the Chantry had everyone convinced that blood magic and possession went hand in hand. Such idiocy! Blood magic was magic, like any other. It was merely a tool–a powerful tool to be sure–but a tool.

For the first time, Alistair noticed the dead man. He speared Lilyth with an angry look. "What happened to him?"

"I killed him."

"Why did you do that? We could have helped him back to the camp! We could have bandaged him up!" The boy Warden stared at her as if she was some sort of monster.

Lilyth scowled at him. Was this what her life as a Grey Warden would be like? Explaining herself every step of the way? "I needed blood, or else the darkspawn would have killed us." She shrugged. "He was dying of his wounds anyway; why not give him a swift death which could serve a greater purpose?"

Alistair rounded on her, the red flush of anger coloring his face. "How do you know he was dying? You said yourself that you're no healer!"

"True, I am not a healer, but I _can_ feel the energy of life, and his life was draining away. I could sense it in his blood." How many people had she killed throughout her life? She knew when a man would die from his injuries; she could smell death on a man's aura.

She looked down her nose and gave the four men a contemptuous glance. "Now, if you are quite done whining about everything, we have a task to finish." Without bothering to wait for a reply, she walked towards the dead darkspawn and began to collect their blood.

oOo

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they managed to find the ruins of the Warden outpost. Lilyth was eager to be done with this place; she had had quite enough of Alistair, Jory and Daveth mumbling about abominations, demons and maleficarum, wondering aloud if Lilyth was possessed, and hinting that perhaps she must have done something to Duncan to convince him to bring her to the Wardens. She toyed around with the idea of telling them that mind domination didn't work like they thought; if one had a strong mind, they couldn't be forced to do something against their will. But, then she thought to just leave them to their fearful muttering. As annoying as it was, part of her was amused by their fear.

Aedan walked over to the Warden cache, took one look and shook his head angrily. "It's empty. The treaties are probably long gone by now."

"Well, well, what have we here?"

A dulcet voice drifted around them lazily; immediately, they looked towards the sound and saw a beautiful young woman gliding down the steps of the old Warden outpost, her hands on her hips. "Are you vultures, I wonder?" she continued calmly. "Scavengers, poking amidst a corpse whose bones have long since been cleaned? Or merely intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Lilyth studied the young woman thoughtfully, trying to get the measure of her. It was clear that she was a mage, and a rather pretty one at that. Her tastes certainly didn't run towards women, but she _did_ appreciate things of beauty, and this wild looking woman was quite stunning.

The woman's golden eyes flicked over Lilyth. "Well, what say you? Vulture, or intruder?"

Lilyth smiled sweetly. "I suppose there are some who would call me a vulture," she said pleasantly; amusement flickered in the woman's bright eyes. "However, in this instance, we are Grey Wardens, come to find something that was once hidden here."

The strange mage returned Lilyth's smile, and inclined her head thoughtfully. "And what you sought was in that chest? I take it that what you seek is here no longer?"

Alistair shook his head, and looked around at the Warden recruits. "Be careful. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

"You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" the woman asked mockingly.

"Yes, swooping is bad," he muttered.

"She's a witch!" Daveth suddenly squeaked. "She'll turn us all into toads!"

Aedan scoffed and slid his daggers back into his belt. "Quiet, Daveth. If she wanted to attack us, she would have done so while we were distracted."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds!" Daveth protested. "We should leave while we still have the chance!"

"'Witch of the Wilds'," the woman murmured softly. "Such foolish tales, those are. Have you no minds of your own?" She glanced at Lilyth. "You there, women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Lilyth lifted her head arrogantly, smiling at the woman. This stranger was polite enough, at least towards her. There could be no harm in returning the favor. "Very well. I am Lilyth Surana." She inclined her head slightly in a greeting.

"Well, at least _you_ are civilized. You may call me Morrigan." The witch crossed her long arms. "And so, to my previous question. What you sought in that chest has long been gone."

" 'Long been gone'?" Alistair repeated. "You stole those treaties, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky, witch thief!"

Morrigan smiled; Lilyth could see amusement in her eyes. Oh yes, this was a woman that Lilyth could grow to like. She reminded her of one of the Mistress' other pets, a young elven girl named Chana; she was beautiful, deadly, clever as a fox, and the only one who could match Lilyth. Her way of speaking, and the amusement that had glittered across her beautiful face was similar to this witch.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan remarked, a hint of laughter at the back of her throat.

Alistair raised himself to his full height and glared at the woman. "Those treaties are the property of the Grey Wardens, and I suggest you return them."

But, the witch only frowned, as if he was nothing more than a fly, buzzing obnoxiously around her head. "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here anymore; I am not threatened."

"Alistair, this is getting us nowhere," Aedan said impatiently. He looked at Morrigan. "I assume you know who took the treaties?"

Morrigan smiled. "I do indeed. 'Twas my mother."

"Well, we need those treaties," Lilyth said. "Could you take us to your mother, or at least point us in the right direction?" The sooner they got those treaties, the sooner they could leave.

The witch's smile widened. "Now _there_ is a sensible request. I like you."

Alistair grimaced. "I'd be careful if I were you, Lilyth. First it's, 'I like you', then... Bam! Frog time." He seemed to think about his words for a moment, then shook his head. "But, I suppose frogs aren't the worst things you've dealt with."

He was quite right, but Lilyth didn't feel like explaining anything to him. Instead, she merely slid her eyes towards him, smiling sweetly. "If you are referring to my blood magic, I would thank you to keep your idiotic comments to yourself."

"We already have one abomination with us," Jory whispered rapidly to Alistair, "and now we're going to follow this witch deeper into the Wilds? They're going to kill us!"

"Why, you are quite right, Jory," Lilyth said, as sweet as poison. She was really starting to grow weary with his stupid fears; the man was scared of his own shadow. How he ever got to be a knight was a mystery to her. "This woman and I are really working together, and we have decided to lure you all deeper into the woods, where we plan to kill you and eat your flesh." She almost snickered to see how pale Jory got.

Morrigan laughed and studied Lilyth with renewed interest. "At least one of you has a glimmer of intelligence." She turned and walked further into the forest. "Follow me, if it pleases any of you."

Jory refused to move. "I tell you, we're going to be killed!"

"Then stay here," Aedan snapped.

Lilyth glided after Morrigan, with Aedan right behind her. In the end, the other three had no choice but to follow.

oOo

It took them only about a half hour of walking to reach a small clearing where Lilyth saw a little hut set back against the trees. She assumed that this was where Morrigan's mother lived and, sure enough, as they approached she saw an old woman standing in front of the hut, as if awaiting their arrival.

Morrigan walked up to the old woman. "Greetings, Mother. I bring before you five Grey Wardens, who—"

"I see them, girl," the old witch said shortly. She looked around at them. "Mm, much as I expected."

"Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" Alistair asked.

The old mage chuckled. "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe."

"She's a witch!" Daveth squeaked. He was starting to give Lilyth a headache. "She's going to put us all in the pot!"

"Shut it, Daveth," Aedan said harshly, who seemed almost as impatient as Lilyth was. "If she's really an evil witch, making her mad isn't going to help anything."

Morrigan's mother smiled at him. "Now _there_ is a smart lad, but it is sadly irrelevant to the greater things. Believe what you will." Her yellow eyes landed on Lilyth, and her amusement seemed to grow. "And what about you? Does your elven mind give you a different view? What do you believe?"

Lilyth could feel a wave of pure, ancient power emanating from this strange old woman. Her aura was strong and magnificent; she had to be even more powerful that Mistress Brinna, who had been one of the strongest mages of the Tevinter Imperium. Lilyth could barely contain her excitement. Who knew what secrets this woman held?

She lifted her head a bit higher and smiled. "It matters not what I believe or do not believe; there are some things that must be accepted."

The old woman laughed, as if she had caught the double meaning in those words; the hint that Lilyth was not some slave of the Circle Tower, but a mage who sought answers for herself. "Ah, there is the response I hoped to get, from a mind not made of mush."

Alistair chuckled nervously. "So _this_ is the dreaded Witch of the Wilds?"

" 'Witch of the Wilds'? Did Morrigan tell you that?" The wild mage laughed mockingly. "She fancies such tall tales, though she would never admit it."

Morrigan groaned. "They did not come to listen to you babble, Mother."

"True enough. You came for your treaties?" Morrigan's mother reached into the large pocket of her dress and pulled out three weathered scrolls. "Before you begin barking at me, your precious seals wore off long ago. I have protected these." She handed the scrolls to Lilyth.

"You... protected them?" Alistair asked.

"Why not? Take them to your Grey Warden leaders and tell them that this Blight is a greater threat than they know."

Lilyth tucked the scrolls under her arm and sniffed arrogantly. "I have come to believe that there is much our Grey Warden leaders don't know."

The old woman's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Such disdainful remarks from such a young woman. I wonder where your critical mind comes from."

"A life of reality," Lilyth replied.

"I can see that." Morrigan's mother studied Lilyth's face thoughtfully; for a single, uncomfortable moment, it almost seemed as though the old woman could read her past as if it was written on her face. "I can see what has brought you here. But tread carefully, girl. The light of clarity can at times blind you."

Lilyth shrugged, as if the words were meaningless to her, rather than an ominous warning. "Not if you stand in the shade."

The old woman's laughter echoed through the trees; Morrigan stepped forward with a smile on her face. "It is time for you to go; allow me to guide you through the forest."

Lilyth ignored the old mage and followed Morrigan back along the path. She tried to listen to Jory and Daveth's fearful muttering, wishing for anything to focus on to distract her from her thoughts, but she couldn't ignore the strange sense that the old woman was still keeping an eye on her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Thoughts/comments on the battle scene would be much appreciated. It's the first time in about nine years that Lilyth has used her blood magic, so I wanted to focus on how she felt. But, I'm still learning how to write battle scenes, so if you notice something I should have done differently, please don't hesitate to tell me._

_Many hugs, thanks and cookies to the awesome Suilven. She's been so patient to the messes I've sent her, and her suggestions have really helped my writing._

_Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, or requesting alerts. It really means a lot!_


	5. Chapter 5

**V. Sea of Loathing**

Aedan would never have guessed that he'd actually be grateful to return to the Grey Warden's camp, but that was before he had been sent out on that Maker-forsaken trip into the Korcari Wilds. The whole mission had been a pointless waste of time. Finding darkspawn blood, locating treaties that had been abandoned; he couldn't understand why it was necessary and Duncan didn't seem inclined to tell them anything. _But then, _Aedan thought darkly, _Duncan doesn't seem to think he needs to explain _any_of his actions._

He silently followed Alistair into the camp; he could hear Jory and Daveth behind him, whispering furiously to each other, and stifled the urge to hit them in their faces. Maker, he'd thought listening to Nan's incessant stories was an exhausting experience, but these men, who were his fellow Grey Warden recruits, made her look as calm as a Tranquil.

He tossed a glance at the elf, Lilyth, who was walking serenely behind him, seemingly unaware of Jory's fearful rambling or Daveth's nervous whispers. When she saw his eyes on her, she smiled sweetly and tossed him a flirtatious wink; he had the distinct impression that she was amused by their fear. Aedan shook his head at the laughter sparkling in the elf's eyes; at least _one_ of them was getting some sort of enjoyment out of their presence.

Personally, he could hardly stomach the thought that soon he would be forced to call Daveth and Jory his brother Wardens. Father had often described the Grey Wardens as fearless heroes, men willing to sacrifice anything for the greater good, but neither the thief nor the knight seemed to behave like true men. Aedan had known servants with thicker blood than those two craven idiots.

But, he held his tongue as he followed behind Alistair, who was leading them to Duncan's tent. For whatever reason, Mother and Father had been willing to sacrifice themselves so that Aedan could become a Grey Warden. It was his father's last wish—along with the desire that he bring vengeance to Howe—and much as he might long to be elsewhere, Aedan would honor his father's memory. As much as he hated Duncan for dragging him away from the castle, he would do as his father had requested. He would honor the Grey Wardens, whether they behaved like men or boys, and ensure that Howe got what he deserved.

Alistair marched up to Duncan, his face a dark mask of anger. Duncan stood slowly from his spot by the fire; it seemed as though he could tell that something was amiss. "It is good that you have returned." His voice seemed guarded. "Were you successful?"

"We were." Alistair handed Duncan the vials of darkspawn blood and treaties and then pointed an accusing finger at Lilyth. "But, I must ask you about this... this _mage_," he said the word as if it were a curse, "that you recruited."

Lilyth widened her eyes and peered up at Duncan, all smiles and innocence. She looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, a meek expression that was contradicted by the blood clinging to her skin. From the moment she had used her blood magic in the Korcari Wilds, she had been covered in it, and hadn't gotten a chance to clean herself. It was streaked across her arms and hands, smeared on her cheeks, and splattered across her clothing. If Aedan was a suspicious man, or a fool outright, he would have thought that the contradiction between the innocent smile and blood-soaked clothing made her look like an angel of death.

The young mage laughed musically and laced her fingers together behind her back, smiling up at Duncan with all the innocence of a Chantry sister. "I fear your little boy Warden was shocked to see me use my true power." Aedan could tell she was enjoying herself.

Duncan sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I believe I asked you not to use your talents just yet."

Lilyth stuck out her lower lip, pouting like a little girl denied a special treat. "You told me that you did not wish for the _templars_ to see my blood magic. There were no templars around; only my fellow Wardens were there to witness what I did. I assumed that they would understand." She sniffed arrogantly and tossed Alistair a contemptuous look. "Apparently, I was mistaken."

Alistair took a step away from the young woman, but his eyes never strayed from Duncan's face. "She said you knew, Duncan. She said that you accepted her into the Wardens _because_ of her blood magic."

The Warden-Commander studied Alistair calmly. "We must use all of the tools at our disposal to combat the Blight, Alistair. I would never turn down such power, not when it can be used for the greater good."

Lilyth made a smug retort, but Aedan was barely paying attention anymore. He was growing sick of hearing the others complain about the elf's magic; she had helped them against the darkspawn, hadn't she? His eyes traveled around the camp, not really seeing anything. In all honesty, he couldn't blame Lilyth for growing impatient with the others. He would never claim to know much about any magic, but if she wanted to control their minds–as the Chantry claimed blood mages did–wouldn't she have already done so by now? To him, it seemed like a stupid thing to worry about.

There was true evil in the world, Aedan knew, and it didn't always come from mages. No, true evil came from a man who abandoned his honor and slaughtered innocents in their sleep. A man who betrayed his friend and sworn liege for material gains. That was worse than any blood mage. A blood mage could attack the body—and, if the Chantry was to be believed, sometimes the mind—but a man who smiled at his friend the morning before ordering his death? That kind of betrayal was worse than any physical attack.

"Enough," Lilyth said firmly, pulling Aedan from his somber thoughts. She waved a pale hand, dismissing Alistair as if he was beneath her notice. "I do not care to listen to this fool any longer." She tossed her long black hair impatiently. "I am going to clean myself. Should you have need of me, Duncan, I shall be at my tent." With another little toss of her head, she glided off towards the Wardens' tents, ignoring the apprehensive glances men tossed her way.

Duncan shook his head slightly, and turned to the four men standing before him. "I must prepare for the Joining ritual. Alistair, if you would accompany me. I suggest that the rest of you take this time to relax while you can. As you know, we start the battle tonight."

_Relax,_ Aedan thought glumly. _I doubt I'll be doing that anytime soon. _Jory and Daveth looked as though they didn't know where to go, but Aedan found himself wandering over to the training area where the King's army was practicing for battle. They scuffled around, sparring against one another, but there was a nervous edge to their movements. Aedan could feel their fear, as tangible as a living being, and scoffed to himself. Frightened men would not win a battle.

He sat on a stone bench and watched the men. Normally, when a group trained, there were shouts of advice or encouragement, good-natured banter, and laughter, with each man boasting of his skills. But, these men were too silent; there was a desperate air to their movements, as if they knew that this would be their last night alive. Aedan scowled. Men should be confident before battle, secure in their own strengths and the strength of their leaders. They shouldn't be frantically honing their skills a few hours before battle.

_If Fergus was here, he'd set these men straight. Not a one of them would fear death if he was leading them._ Aedan ran a hand through his light hair, painfully aware that if Fergus were here, things would be much different.

Fergus was their father's true heir, the one who deserved to inherit the title of Teyrn. He was the one who deftly played at politics with the nobles, the one who led men into battle and knew how to handle their father's affairs. It was Aedan who was the troublemaker of the family, the one who spent his time among the servants and soldiers, who drank and gambled. But, for all the headaches that Aedan had brought to his family, Fergus had always stood beside him. He had never betrayed Aedan to Father, and had laughingly swore that he would always need his brother by his side when he inherited the Teyrnir of Highever.

Aedan leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. He didn't even know if Fergus was still alive. King Cailan had told him that Fergus had taken some men and gone scouting, and that they wouldn't return until after the battle. What if Howe had sent his men—?

No, he wouldn't think like that. Couslands were survivors; he had to believe that Fergus was okay, safe with his men. It was bad enough knowing that Mother and Father were gone; that his little nephew, a boy who had not even gotten a chance to live, was gone; bad enough that everyone in his household, those his family had sworn to protect were gone. If Fergus was dead... Aedan couldn't stomach the thought of it. He refused to believe that he was the last of his line. No, Fergus would survive. He had to.

Aedan stood up swiftly from his seat. The clangs of steel against steel were like shrieks of terror, the same screams he heard in his dreams when he allowed himself to sleep. If he thought of little Oren lying still on the ground, or of Iona's body cut to pieces...

He walked briskly over to the kennels, as if trying to escape his thoughts. If there was one being who could draw him from this anger and madness that sought to invade his mind it would be Fang, his faithful mabari. The dog had been injured during the assault on Highever and was currently recuperating in a peaceful spot, away from all the madness of an army at war. But, surely he must be healed by now?

"Good day, ser," the kennel master said brightly as he noticed Aedan's approach. "Come to check on your mabari, have you?"

"I have." Aedan peered through the fence and saw Fang lift his head up. The mabari barked happily and wagged his non-existent tail, clearly indicating his pleasure at seeing Aedan. "He seems much improved. May I take him with me?" As much as Aedan wished for Fang's company, he didn't want to risk the dog's health.

The kennel master nodded. "His wounds have healed up nicely, ser, and he's eating and drinking at a normal rate." He opened the gate, allowing Fang to dive out and attack Aedan with licks to his face. "You've got a fine mabari there, ser."

"I know." Aedan ran a hand through the dog's thick fur and smiled for the first time since Howe's betrayal. "I'm glad you're all right, my friend." Fang cocked his head, as if to ask whether Aedan really had any doubts. He sighed and looked at the dog. Fang was the only one he had been able to save, the only member of his family to survive the attack, and he couldn't thank the Maker enough for sparing him.

He stood up and looked down at the mabari. "Come on, then."

With Fang loyally following at his heels, Aedan walked towards the Warden tents, intending to sit with his dog until Duncan called them for the Joining. Yet as he walked, he noticed a brightly colored tent next to the King's: Teyrn Loghain's tent.

An idea suddenly occurred to him. If King Cailan was too caught up in fanciful ideas of war to care about the deaths of the most important family in his kingdom, surely Loghain would see reason. After all, Loghain wasn't as capricious as Cailan. He was far too realistic and sensible to ever get caught up in visions of grandeur. He would understand that the business of the realm didn't stop just because of a war.

Aedan's hopes of speaking with Loghain, however, were halted when he got to the tent and was stopped by some guard who had the audacity to order him around. "Halt!" The guard fingered the hilt of his sword threateningly. "You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain; state your business or go elsewhere."

Aedan scowled and crossed his arms. Didn't this fool recognize who he was? "I am Aedan Cousland, son of Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever." _That_ got the guard's attention; Aedan narrowed his eyes. "Tell Loghain that I wish to speak with him."

The guard scuttled backwards into the tent, and Aedan looked down at Fang. "Well, at least he learned his mistake, wouldn't you say?" Fang snorted in agreement.

Soon Teyrn Loghain came out of his tent, looking just as gruff and serious as Aedan remembered. Even amidst an army preparing for war, Loghain looked as though he was about to walk into the Landsmeet. Not a single strand of hair was out of place; his armor was polished, gleaming to perfection. Aedan idly wondered if he had ever seen Loghain look anything other than perfectly put together, and realized that, no, he hadn't.

Loghain inclined his head. "Ah, young Cousland. King Cailan said you had arrived in camp. He said you were to join the Grey Wardens."

"I'm not here to discuss the Grey Wardens," Aedan said shortly. Loghain speared him with a look, and he reluctantly added, "ser. I am here to discuss what happened at Highever."

Loghain nodded solemnly. "Yes, I heard about what happened. I am sorry for the loss of your family. You have spoken to the King about the matter?"

Aedan scowled. "I attempted to. King Cailan seems unconcerned with the death of one of his Teyrns."

"His Majesty informed me of the situation. Once this battle is over, he will bring Arl Howe to justice."

Aedan closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm, and inhaled deeply. How could they be so nonchalant about this? The Couslands were one of the oldest families in Ferelden. Certainly Aedan's bloodline was far more glorious than Loghain, who was nothing but the son of a farmer. It was true that Loghain was a skilled leader, that without him King Maric would never have gained his throne, but Bryce Cousland was not _only_ a warrior; he was a proud and noble man who had risked everything for love of the Crown. His death deserved more merit than this casual acceptance.

Loghain studied the young man carefully; it was almost as if he knew what Aedan was thinking. "We are at war, young Cousland. The King cannot halt this battle simply because someone has died."

His words broke the fragile hold Aedan had over his temper. "Very well," he spat, "you wish to discuss war? Then tell me why the King is diving into battle with only half of his army? You seem to care nothing about the deaths of my family, but you should at least care about the lack of soldiers! Highever has fallen! My father won't be bringing his army! And, instead of sending his _own_ men into battle, Howe used them to attack the castle; his army won't be joining either! And, I hear from Duncan that Arl Eamon hasn't yet sent _his_ men from Redcliffe!" He glared up at Loghain with deep hatred. "All very well to say that the King cannot halt a battle for the deaths of his most important family, but rushing in like this is suicide! You're the King's general! You should know how stupid this is!"

Loghain scowled. "You should curb your tongue, young Cousland. You are dangerously close to speaking ill of your King." He drew himself up. "Now I have things to do; I suggest that you go back to your fellow Wardens." He turned and strode back into the tent.

Aedan was fuming as he and Fang walked back to the Warden side of camp. He didn't need Loghain to tell him about warfare! He understood full well that the King could not do anything about the fall of Highever until after the battle. However, Cailan should have at least shown the slightest bit of concern, even if that concern was only because Highever's army would not be able to help them.

He slowed his pace. Actually, now that he thought about it, the King's plan really _didn't_ make any sense. Why was he planning to enter into battle with only half of his men? Three more forces had been scheduled to arrive—from Highever, Amaranthine, and Redcliffe—but the King was content to rush into battle without them. Why was Loghain, reputed to be Ferelden's greatest general, allowing their ruler to enact such a plan?

Aedan frowned. Something was wrong. First his family, the greatest family in Ferelden, was slaughtered in their home, thereby unable to help win the battle; and now Teyrn Loghain was allowing their King, the ruler of their country, a ruler with no heir, to rush into battle with only half of his troops. The timing on these events seemed too convenient.

Yes, something was definitely wrong. But, he'd be damned if he knew what it was.

oOo

Lilyth stood with the other Grey Warden recruits in a corner of the ruins, impatiently waiting for Duncan to arrive and start their Joining. The sooner they got the ritual over with, the better. All of this secrecy was really getting to be quite annoying.

She walked over to the table nearby and picked up a silver platter. Whether it was left behind from the King's meal, or meant to serve some other purpose she didn't know, but it _did_ give her an opportunity to study her reflection. She would have given a lot to have a full-length mirror at her disposal, to ensure that she had cleaned off all the blood, but no matter. She turned her face this way and that, checking to make sure that there was no trace of blood still on her face. Satisfied that she had done a fine job of cleaning herself, she set the platter down.

If there was one downside to using blood magic, it was that she got covered in it each time she used the power. Thankfully, Duncan had given her time to pack her actual clothing before they had left the Tower; she wasn't forced to wear those horrid mage robes. From her black boots, dark grey laced pants, to her black leather tunic, her clothing was perfectly colored to hide the signs of blood.

She leaned against the table and idly played with the crystal amulet she wore around her neck, the amulet that had once held the spirit of her father. It seemed he was truly gone, but that no longer concerned her. Soon, she would find a way to replace his soul with the soul of someone far more precious.

Daveth and Jory nervously paced around the area, babbling about some problem or other; she wasn't really paying attention. Now and then they tossed her an anxious glance, as if afraid she would suddenly cut herself and use the blood to trap their minds. It really was laughable, to see grown men acting like frightened children.

Her eyes traveled to Aedan, who leaned against the wall with a silent scowl on his face. It seemed he was the only one who behaved like a man; the only one who didn't fear her blood magic. She would give him respect for that alone. His mind was made of stronger stuff than most men and, of course, it didn't hurt that he was quite pleasing to the eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Duncan walked towards them, holding a tarnished silver cup with Alistair following behind. He walked up to them and set the cup down on the table. "At last we come to the Joining." He looked around at all of the recruits. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint."

Lilyth studied him closely, unsure if she had heard correctly. She fought back an urge to collapse into laughter. The Grey Warden ritual was a form of blood magic? Oh, she couldn't _wait_ to rub this in Alistair's nose.

Jory's eyes were practically bulging out of his skull; he stared at Duncan as if he were madman. "We're... going to drink the blood of those... those creatures?"

Duncan nodded solemnly. "As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. _This _is the source of our power, and our victory."

Alistair stepped forward and looked around at the men; Lilyth noticed that he avoided her eyes. "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon."

Lilyth narrowed her eyes. _Those who survive?_ No one had told her that she would be risking her life to join the Grey Wardens; she certainly wasn't going to allow herself to die for such a thing. But for now, however, she would hold her tongue and wait to see what happened. Better to react only _after_ she had an idea of what to expect.

Duncan picked up the cup and held it before him. "We speak only a few words before the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair lowered his head reverently. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And, should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

Duncan held the cup up for all to see, but Lilyth wasn't paying attention. Her mind was racing with thoughts of how to get out of there. She was _not_ about to risk death to join the Wardens. Not for all the power of the Imperium would she take such a chance.

"Daveth, step forward," Duncan said. The rogue was visibly pale, but his hands were steady as he held them out and accepted the cup.

The moment he took a drink of the dark liquid, it was clear to them all that something was wrong. Duncan took the cup and stepped back while Daveth lifted his face to the sky; Lilyth could see his eyes roll back in his head. He began clutching at his throat, choking and gurgling as he fell to the ground with a harsh thud. He tried to scramble back to his feet; she could see his hands clawing at the ground, searching for something to grab onto as he desperately tried to cling to life. No one moved to help him, though, and soon he was still.

Lilyth pursed her lips. Could she sneak away before Duncan noticed her? No, she would have to confront him when it was her turn. After that... well, she might have to attack him if he put up a fight. She glanced at Aedan, who watched Duncan with dark eyes. He didn't seem any more thrilled about this than she was. Perhaps she could use him as an ally, and the two could make their escape together?

Duncan shook his head sadly as he stared down at the lifeless rogue. "I am sorry, Daveth." He turned away from the body. "Jory, step forward."

The knight backed away from Duncan, shaking his head rapidly. "No. I cannot do this. I have a wife, a child. Had I known..."

Duncan watched the knight carefully. "There is no turning back." When Jory refused to come forward, Duncan sadly set the cup down onto the table and moved towards the knight.

Jory nervously reached towards his sword and slowly drew it, holding it in front of him as if forced into a corner. "No, you ask too much."

As Lilyth, Aedan, and Alistair watched silently, Duncan drew out his dagger. Jory held his sword aloft, but the old Warden was too quick for him; he pinned Jory against the wall and stabbed him in the stomach. It was almost too quick for Lilyth to see, but then Duncan stepped back and let Jory fall to the ground. "I am sorry."

Her mind was racing. So, if they refused to drink the poison and risk death, Duncan would try to kill them? Well, let him try it on her. She wasn't useless like that fool of a knight.

"But the Joining is not yet completed." Duncan picked up the cup and turned towards Lilyth, ignoring the two bodies now lying near his feet. "You are called to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."

Lilyth drew herself up to her full height. Admittedly, she was a good foot shorter than Duncan, but she could still look threatening when she needed to. She had the Mistress to thank for that. "No." She heard Alistair inhale sharply, but never took her eyes off the old Warden in front of her. "I will not drink that."

Duncan shook his head sadly. "I have already explained that there is no turning back."

She scoffed. "You are asking me to risk death for the good of someone else? I think not."

"You don't have a choice." He set the cup down on the table again, and reached towards his dagger.

But Lilyth was ready for it. She held her hand out, calling on Jory's blood to rise up. The magic flowed through her veins, yet instead of becoming elated by such raw power, she grew angry; angry at being forced to defend herself. "You killed Jory, and have provided me with the best weapon you could have given me. We both know that I can kill you before you finish drawing your knife. Are you certain that you wish to try and force me?" As if to prove her point, she flicked her wrist, calling on the blood to lift from Jory's body and swirl around her hands.

She and Duncan glared at each other for one tension filled moment. Then, the old Warden relaxed his stance and moved his hand away from the hilt of his dagger; Lilyth took that as a sign of victory and turned away. Where she planned to go, she had no idea, but she certainly wasn't going to stay here. She kept hold of the blood swirling around her hands, just in case Duncan thought to attack her while her back was turned.

"If you do not Join, the templars will hunt you."

Duncan's voice was so soft that she barely heard it, but the words caused her to stop. She twisted around to glare at him. "If the templars come, I will fight them."

The old Warden studied her thoughtfully. "If you do not Join, then you no longer have the protection of the Grey Wardens." He shrugged carelessly. "I am afraid I will be forced to tell the templars here in Ostagar that you are a blood mage. You know they will hunt you down."

Lilyth froze; she almost dropped her hold over the blood, but at the last minute managed to keep the chain of power connected. There were at least thirty templars here at Ostagar. If Duncan told them who she was, she would never be able to escape them. For all of her skills, she couldn't fight that many at once, even with blood magic.

She frowned, weighing out her options. Could she manage to hide from them and escape to the Wilds? Possibly, but then what? She would have to find her way to Denerim and, by the time she reached it, _if_ she managed to reach it, the templars would surely have already alerted the mage storage. She wouldn't be able to find her phylactery. She would never be free.

Slowly, reluctantly, she let Jory's blood drop from her command. She could see that there was no way out. Duncan saw her grudging acceptance and smiled; he held out the cup for her, however Lilyth was in no mood to be taunted by his words. She snatched the cup from his hands and glared at him. "Know this," she whispered menacingly. "If I survive, you have made an enemy."

Without bothering to wait for a response, Lilyth took a gulp of the dark liquid. It had to be one of the most disgusting things she had ever in her life tasted; it was thick and bitter, with some sort of rotten aftertaste to it. Her body immediately wanted to reject the strange liquid, but she forced herself to swallow. If she had to do this, if there was no way around risking her life, she would do it without flinching. It would never be said that Lilyth didn't walk to her fate with her head held high.

She didn't remember Duncan taking the cup away from her. As soon as the repulsive liquid washed over her tongue, the faces of Duncan, Aedan, and Alistair were swept away. It seemed as if every muscle in her body tensed up; her legs threatened to buckle from underneath her. And then she was no longer standing in an ancient ruin. She couldn't figure out _where_ she was, exactly, but her eyes were drawn to an ominous shadow perched above her on a dark and foreboding cliff.

Something about the shadow drew her attention; she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from it. Slowly, she watched as it lifted its giant head. _Shit! That's a dragon!_ The dragon raised itself onto its legs and spread its giant wings; the wings were so large they seemed to block out the sky completely. The dragon let out a shrieking scream to the heavens, a bone shattering shout that set her very skin on fire. But, she couldn't move; she couldn't pull herself away from the horrifying sight and was forced to watch, helplessly, as the dragon turned its head and looked at her.

Then, it was gone, and she was swept into oblivion.

oOo

"You both heard our orders," Alistair said, looking from Lilyth to Aedan. "We're to wait for the battle to start, and then we'll cross the bridge to the Tower of Ishal."

Lilyth turned her head away from the boy Warden, trying to tune out his prattling. She heard Duncan's orders as well as he did; he didn't need to remind her of them. She leaned against the wall of the bridge with her arms crossed, ignoring the beating rain that pounded down all around them and scowled at the ground. She was in a _very_ bad mood, and didn't care who knew it. Oh, what she would do to Duncan after this battle. She hadn't lied to him; by forcing her into drinking that horrid darkspawn blood, he was now her enemy, and she would make him pay.

For the time being, however, she would do as she was told. She would follow Aedan, his mutt Fang, and Alistair into the Tower to light the beacon and signal Loghain's troops to aid the King's army. By taking that path, she had a greater chance of ensuring her own survival.

But for how long she would live, she couldn't tell. No one had told her that being a Grey Warden meant giving up her life. She could already feel the taint working its way through her body; her very blood felt chilled, as if laced with poison. Each pump of her heart was like a tocsin, ringing a peal to remind her that she was slowly dying. She felt as though Duncan had tricked her; during their talks in the Circle Tower, their trip from Lake Calenhad to Ostagar, he had never bothered to tell her that becoming a Grey Warden meant infecting her with darkspawn taint and suffering a slow death. If she had known that, she would have just stayed in the Tower and tried to become a Senior Enchanter.

_And,__just like that, I am caught again_, she thought sulkily. _My thoughts of being free were nothing but a trick to keep me silent until they could ensnare me._ First her father, then the Mistress, the templars, and now the Grey Wardens. It seemed that Fate had decreed that no matter where she was sent, it was Lilyth's destiny to belong to someone.

She clenched her fists. _No, that is not true._ She didn't care if it took journeying to the Void itself; she would do whatever it took if it meant her freedom. Lilyth was no one's property anymore. And, when this battle was over, she would find a way to abandon the Wardens. Duncan took away her choice when he forced her to drink that blood potion and, in so doing, he took away any possible chance of Lilyth remaining faithful to the Grey Wardens.

Suddenly, people began shouting; it seemed the battle had begun. Alistair grabbed Lilyth's wrist, intending to pull her after him as they ran across the bridge, but she hissed and yanked her hand from his grasp. No one had the right to touch her anymore!

Alistair was barely paying attention to her reaction, so caught up in his desire to obey his command. "Come on! We need to get to the Tower!"

On the bridge around her, men and women were shooting arrows down into the battle below and firing ballistas to stop the darkspawn from approaching. The very air was heavy with panic and desperation, but Lilyth refused to be drawn into it. She grit her teeth and followed quickly behind her fellow Wardens and the mutt. She did not come all this way, did not commit herself to a life of tainted blood, only to die in battle that same night.

They ran across the bridge, dodging catapults and soldiers along the way and, when they had finally crossed, Alistair was almost knocked off his feet by a man desperately trying to run the other way. The boy Warden grabbed the man by his arms and shook him roughly. "What are you doing, man?"

The soldier was shaking, visibly upset. "Y—you're Grey Wardens, aren't you? You have to help us! The Tower... it's been taken!"

Aedan strode up to the man angrily. "What are you talking about? Taken how?"

"The darkspawn... they came up from the lower levels and attacked!" The man was whimpering; Lilyth had to fight an urge to slap him. She couldn't stand sobbing men. "Most of our men are already dead!"

Alistair dropped the man, who quickly scampered away from the Tower as fast as he could, and turned to Lilyth and Aedan. "We have to get to the Tower and light the beacon ourselves! If Loghain doesn't receive the signal he can't help the King's army!"

Lilyth found that her fists were clenched, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. She forced herself to relax, and settled for toying with the daggers at her belt, the daggers that Duncan had given her after her Joining. She was never one to use staves; Mistress Brinna had given Lilyth a decent education in handling blades, and she preferred them to metal sticks.

She trailed behind Aedan and Alistair as they ran towards the Tower of Ishal, lifting her head up. It didn't matter if darkspawn had swarmed the area, it didn't matter whether this battle was a success or not. She was _not_ going to let herself die.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_** _I want to send out a thank you to Wyl, who has really been a huge help in helping me figure out how to get Lilyth from point A to point B, while still keeping to her character. I think I've mentioned before that she's a difficult character for me to write, and Wyl is always ready with advice, suggestions, or support. _

__Many, many thanks to Suilven, my awesome beta, who has been so patient, helpful, and encouraging with all of the mistakes she's forced to fix. If you haven't taken a look at her wonderful story, Scars That Bind, you really should do so. You won't be disappointed.__

_And thank you to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are lurking. It means a lot!_


	6. Chapter 6

**This Won't Hurt a Bit**

_The air was heavy with the scents of jasmine and gardenia. Lilyth recognized the smell from some of the flower carts that always gathered in the center of the marketplace. She used to hover around them during the day, wanting to carry that fresh, clean smell with her all night, even when she went back to the Alienage._

_But,__this time the scent wasn't coming from the flower vendors._

_This time,__ it was drifting th__rough a giant hall, so large that Lilyth worried she'd be swallowed whole. The gilded walls loomed over her like some sort of wicked cage; elaborate paintings and ornate tapestries of evil-looking creatures from mythology glared down at her menacingly from golden thread that sparkled in the torchlight. She wanted to run from this place, to go back to her simple room and hide under the thin covers._

_But the older girl who clutched firmly on to Lilyth's arm seemed to have a different opinion. She roughly pulled Lilyth down the hallway, ignoring her whimpers of pain as she stumbled and tried to keep up. Her feet hurt; her legs were aching. Fresh bruises bloomed along her thin arms where she had been bound, but the older girl—whose name she didn't know—refused to relax her grip._

_She dragged __Lilyth towards the end of the hallway and knocked on a thick wooden door, causing Lilyth to wince at the harsh sound. But,__then the door was thrown open, and Lilyth was shoved unceremoniously into the room. She stumbled and nearly fell__ as her legs seemed to almost give out from underneath her, but somehow managed to catch herself in time and straighten up._

_This new room was bright and warm. The first thing that caught her attention__ as her eyes traveled over the plush couches, the__glittering vanity table piled with bottles of perfume and ointments, and the__giant bed stuffed high with blankets, was the woman sitting at the back of the room. She was stunningly beautiful, the most beautiful woman Lilyth had ever seen. Her thick blonde hair was twisted into an elegant plait, and she was dressed in such a translucent robe that it made Lilyth uncomfortable._

"_Ah, so this is the new one," the beautiful woman remarked casually, as if dirty elf children appearing in her fancy __room was commonplace. Her voice was musical, as sweet as the honey cakes Mama baked during Satinalia, and as reassuring as sitting beside a warm fire in the middle of winter. "Bring her forward, Elita." _

_The older girl pushed Lilyth forward. Again,__ she stumbled, almost falling forward onto the thick carpets beneath her bare feet. The beautiful woman stood up and__ glided towards Lilyth with a graceful sway to her hips. "An exquisite little girl. How old are you, child?" _

"_Eight," Lilyth mumbled hoarsely._

_A hard slap collided with the side of her head, snapping her neck back painfully and causing her vision to blur. Lilyth let out a whimper. Elita grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up. "This is your Mistress, girl. You will show her the proper respect. Say it again." _

_Lilyth sniffed and bit her lip, trying hard to keep the tears from falling. "I'm eight, ma'am." _

_The Mistress chuckled softly and knelt down in front of Lilyth, smoothing the sheer fabric of her robe over her knees. She grabbed Lilyth's chin and turned her head this way and that, inspecting her as casually as if she was a horse brought to market. "My men told me they found her in the Alienage, that they paid a decent sum for her?"_

_The question was obviously meant for Elita; Lilyth could hear her chuckle. "That filthy knife-ear was only too happy to take the money." _

_The Mistress nodded, never taking her dark eyes off Lilyth's face. "And,__ she is a mage?"_

"_She is. A decent one, it seems, though with no formal training. She fought your men the whole way here, nearly killed one of them. We had to bind her to keep her still." _

_Lilyth felt her stomach drop. Were these people going to send her to the Tower? Were they going to punish her for using magic? She hadn't meant to attack Daddy, or the men who took her away from the Alienage. It just happened on its__own! Was that why Mama and Daddy had__sent her away? Was it because she had magic? __Who would take care of Letia? "Please," she heard herself say. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I want to go home."_

_The Mistress smiled down at Lilyt__h. "This _is _your home, my pretty girl." She stood up and smoothed down the silky fabric of her robe. "Put her with the others for now. She can begin her training tomorrow." Her smile widened, but there was something in her eyes that made Lilyth want to run__ and hide. "We'll see how she does. If she can already wound adult men, she may have some promise." The Mistress ran a hand over Lilyth's black hair, twisting the strands around her fingers. "And she is such a pretty child. Punish her if she misbehaves, bu__t do not damage her looks. In another few years I can charge quite a fee for her. Men will be only too happy to pay."_

_Lilyth, too young to understand the implications of those words, could do and__say nothing as the tears continued to fall, as __Elita grabbed her arm again and dragged __her from the room__. _

oOo

A haze of bright light filtered behind Lilyth's tightly shut eyes. She drifted between wakefulness and sleep, unsure if the images dancing through her mind were dreams or conscious thoughts. She saw blood and fire in her mind's eye, heard a young girl crying, and smelled the thick, indescribable scent of death. Sweet music floated through her dreams, perfumed hallways with dark corridors flitted through her mind. The sights and scents swam through her vision until she couldn't tell one scene from the next. It all became a jumbled mess.

Then, suddenly, she woke up all at once. Her eyes flung open, and she stared up at the ceiling as if she had never seen such a thing before. She could feel cold sweat on her chest and shoulders; her hair was sticking to the back of her neck.

As her eyes became adjusted to the light, she slowly sat up and took in her surroundings. She was in a run-down little shack, a place so unlike anything she had ever seen, that at first she thought she must still be dreaming. Books were piled haphazardly in a corner of the room, the walls were peeling, and the whole place smelled of wet mold. Lilyth crinkled her nose. How did she get _here_?

She sat still on the little bed, taking inventory of herself. Had someone kidnapped her? Looking down, she saw that someone had removed her clothing and covered her chest and left shoulder in thick bandages. Had she been wounded, somehow? Strange; she didn't remember being hurt.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased." A dulcet, confident voice drifted to Lilyth; she jerked her head up to see the young woman from the Wilds standing near the kitchen area. At least, Lilyth assumed that it was _supposed_ to be a kitchen area. But, it was hard to be certain, since there was only one small pot against the wall, and almost no cooking utensils whatsoever.

"I remember you," Lilyth said, taking care to keep her voice calm. She would never demean herself by crying or pleading for information. Better to act as if she wasn't surprised to find herself here; to gather information in a cool, collected manner. "You are Morrigan, correct?" She looked down at her bandaged chest and then lifted the sheets to see more bandages on her legs. Other than that, she wore only her smallclothes. "You know, I generally charge a great deal of money for the privilege of seeing me like this."

The witch was clearly not amused by Lilyth's comment. Her delicate brows furrowed into a scowl, and she sniffed with such arrogance that Lilyth couldn't help but be impressed. After all, it took years of practice to perfect such a disdainful look, but at least it gave Lilyth a bit of knowledge. Morrigan hadn't brought her here for any sort of physical pleasure.

"Usually when I wake up, naked, in someone else's bed, it means only one thing. But, if that is not what you wanted from me, then tell me why I am here." Lilyth touched the bandage around her shoulder, wincing as her long fingers brushed against what felt like a large bruise. "I can see that I was wounded, but I do not remember how it happened."

Morrigan crossed her arms and studied Lilyth thoughtfully. " 'Twas a close call, but Mother managed to rescue you and your friends from the top of the tower. The others were not so fortunate; the darkspawn won your battle."

Memories of the battle flooded back to Lilyth at Morrigan's words. She, Aedan, Alistair, and that mutt, Fang, had tried to light the beacon at the top of the Tower of Ishal, to signal Loghain's men to attack from their hidden spot. She remembered that the Tower had been swarming with darkspawn; they had been forced to fight their way to the top. There had been a giant darkspawn—Alistair had called it an ogre—at the top of the tower. They had killed it; she could remember lighting the beacon. Then... nothing.

Lilyth cast her eyes around the run-down shack as her mind absorbed the memories of that battle and noticed her clothing next to the bed, folded neatly on a shelf. She flipped back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her bandaged leg. "We were wounded at the top of the tower, then?"

Morrigan nodded, seemingly pleased at Lilyth's casual acceptance. "The darkspawn broke through the tower. They attacked you in great numbers, and would have killed you had Mother not been able to save you. She became a great bird, and plucked the four of you in her talons and brought you to safety."

"Were my wounds serious? Apart from a few aches here and there, I feel fine."

"They were, but it was nothing Mother could not handle."

Lilyth nodded, as if it was the only thing that mattered. Indeed, to her, it _was_ the only thing that mattered. She was alive. She would be fine. That was the important thing. She took her clothes off of the shelf and slipped her dark grey leggings over her legs, taking care not to disrupt the bandages. "You said the darkspawn won the battle. Does that mean that the army was destroyed?"

"Yes." Morrigan walked over to the little pot while Lilyth slipped her violet sleeveless top over her torso. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Your king was killed during the battle, as was the Commander of the Grey Wardens."

_That _got Lilyth's attention. She lifted her head and stared at the witch. "Duncan is dead?" Morrigan nodded, never taking her eyes off the soup warming in the pot.

Lilyth had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. So, the mighty Duncan, who had lied to her and had forced her into drinking poison, was dead. If she had ever doubted that Fate was on her side, she didn't anymore. What a fitting end to such a false man! To be killed in battle, while waiting for the aid of another liar and deceiver! Ha!

She secured the black wrap with deep pockets around her hips, holding it in place with her belt, and slid her black boots on. Her hand went to her collarbone where, for the first time, she realized that her necklace was missing. She faced Morrigan with a scowl. "Where is my amulet?"

The witch slid her hand into a pocket of her strange outfit and drew out Lilyth's crystal. She held it up with a smile. "Do you mean this?"

"Give it back." Lilyth took care to keep her voice light, but she knew that her eyes were narrowed angrily. That amulet was the most precious thing she owned, more important to her than anything.

Morrigan shrugged carelessly and dropped the necklace into Lilyth's outstretched hand. " 'Tis a curious thing you have. I wondered why you should carry something like that."

Lilyth slipped the necklace on and fingered the amulet lovingly. "It is nothing but a simple crystal." She would never tell anyone why she wore it, or what she had done with it. There were some things better left secret.

The witch laughed. "Oh no, that is no simple gem. It is a Tevinter amulet; a very rare thing, indeed."

"A Tevinter amulet?" Lilyth asked, momentarily caught off guard. She held the crystal up curiously. There were no markings on its face, no words etched into it, nothing to indicate that it was anything but a common jewel. She had stolen it from one of her customers the night she ran away. This necklace had been the only thing of value that the man had had, and she had intended to pawn it to buy safe passage to Tevinter... until she had gotten distracted by her family. "How can you tell?"

Morrigan's smile widened. "I just can. Mother has taught me much about Tevinter magic. The items they enchant leave a different trace than those you find enchanted by the Tranquil. What it is used for, I cannot say. But I _can_ see that it has been used recently. Obviously, you know more than you say."

Lilyth shrugged and kept silent. She'd never admit that trapping Daddy's soul had been nothing more than a stroke of luck. Actually, she didn't care to discuss the matter at all. She had no idea what she had done, nor how to do it again. But, if she could travel to the Tevinter Imperium, surely the magisters could tell her what to do. Especially, if this amulet had been created there.

Obviously, she kept those thoughts to herself. She didn't care to discuss them with a stranger she barely knew. Instead, she raised her chin and decided to change the subject. "You never told me why your mother thought she should risk herself to save us."

Morrigan chuckled, as if she knew exactly why Lilyth had changed the subject. But, she had enough sense not to comment on it. "Who said Mother risked herself? She was in no danger. As to _why_ she saved you," the witch scowled irritably, "I do not know. Mother rarely tells me her plans. Personally, I would have thought to save your king. A king would grant us a much higher ransom."

"Not necessarily," Lilyth said wryly. _I have no doubt that Mistress Brinna would give quite a lot to have me returned to her._ But she kept that thought to herself. She knew exactly what would happen if the Mistress ever got her hands on her again. A wicked magister who plied her trade in Ferelden, Mistress Brinna wasn't exactly known for her forgiving nature. It didn't matter that nine years had passed since Lilyth had run away; the Mistress would behave as if it had only happened yesterday. But, so long as Lilyth stayed away from her brothel in Amaranthine, Mistress Brinna would hardly chase her down. She had more important things to do than hunt down a disobedient slave.

Morrigan shrugged, as if she didn't care one way or the other. "In any case, it is time for you to leave. Mother is outside by the fire with your two friends; I suggest that you speak to her and then be on your way."

"Very well." Lilyth could hardly keep the smile from her face; thoughts of the Mistress were banished as she grabbed her two daggers from the shelf and slipped outside. Duncan was dead; the Grey Wardens were destroyed. She may have the curse of the darkspawn taint coursing through her veins, but she wasn't obliged to follow the Wardens. Duncan wouldn't alert the templars; she was free to destroy her phylactery and make her way to Tevinter.

A small fire was snapping and crackling outside of the small hut. The old woman—Morrigan's mother—was standing beside it with Aedan, his mutt, and Alistair. All four turned to look at her as she approached them, and the old woman smiled. "See? I told you that your fellow Grey Warden would be fine." She glanced at Alistair with something of an amused look.

The boy Warden crossed his arms with a frown. "Yes, well I suppose it might have been too much to hope otherwise."

Lilyth was in too good a mood to give his words any notice. She tossed the old woman a sweet smile. "Morrigan tells me that it was you who brought us from the tower. Whatever your reasons, your decision kept me alive, and for that I am grateful." Alistair mumbled something in disbelief; Lilyth turned to him, her smile gone. She was _not _about to let his ridiculous words ruin her sunny mood. "Contrary to what your Chantry might say, Templar, blood mages _are_ capable of being grateful to someone who keeps us alive. I have no more desire to die than any of you."

Aedan crossed his arms and looked at the old woman, ignoring both Lilyth and Alistair. "Why _did _you save us? You seem to have gone an awful lot out of your way."

Morrigan's mother laughed. "Well, we can't have all the Grey Wardens dying, now can we?" She looked around at the three of them. "It has always been the duty of the Grey Wardens to unite the land against the Blight. Or, did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"But we _were_ fighting the darkspawn!" Alistair exclaimed. "The King had almost defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question." The old witch shook her head sadly. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps, he believes that the Blight is a threat he can outmaneuver. Perhaps, he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The Archdemon," Alistair said.

Lilyth stopped paying attention to the two of them. She didn't care about the Archdemon. She didn't care about the Blight, or the darkspawn. All she cared about was destroying her phylactery and finding her way to Tevinter. Once there, she could find a way to cure herself of the taint and finally maintain control over her own life. She would be free. Let someone else worry about darkspawn and death.

She turned to the old woman, fingering the crystal around her neck. "Can you tell me of a way out of the Wilds? I must find my way to Denerim." Everyone stared at her, as if she was about to burst into a demon and start rampaging through the forest. She raised an eyebrow and looked back at them, wondering why they were looking at her so strangely.

"What do you mean?" Alistair demanded, clenching his fists tightly. "You aren't thinking of leaving, are you? We're Grey Wardens! We have a duty to stop this Blight!"

Lilyth waved a hand dismissively; she should have expected such a reaction from him. "What do I care for the Blight? It would have been ended already, had Loghain not been stupid and withdrawn his men. Let him and the rest of his countrymen deal with the Archdemon."

Alistair's scowl deepened; his face began turning an amusing shade of red. "You're just going to abandon us? Why am I not surprised? You can kill a helpless, wounded man struggling to survive but, at the first sign of danger, you turn tail and run like a coward!"

It was rare that Lilyth lost control over her temper. She had worked hard to maintain a firm hold over her emotions, and prided herself on always remaining calm and detached. But, at Alistair's words, she felt her restraint snap. She rounded on the boy Warden with such a look of black rage that even the mutt whimpered. "How dare you! How _dare_ you accuse me of being a coward!" She spat each word at him as if it were a curse. "I agreed to join the Wardens on a false promise! I was honest with Duncan about my blood magic; I was honest about who I was and what I have done, yet he did nothing but lie! He forced me to drink that poison; he forced me to give my life! Why should I care if the Blight takes the whole of Ferelden?"

"Lilyth," Aedan interrupted. She twisted around to glare at him, but he was too busy scowling at the sky to pay attention. "Whether you like it or not, we are Grey Wardens now. What Duncan did to us was wrong, I won't deny that." His dark green eyes were as hard as emeralds. "Duncan dragged me from my home as my family was being slaughtered. My father was lying in a pool of his own blood, desperately trying to cling to life, and all Duncan could do was demand that I join the Wardens. He pulled me away while the light went out of Father's eyes." His fists were clenched tightly; he took a deep breath as if forcing himself to stay calm. "But, what is done is done. We are Grey Wardens, and Grey Wardens must end the Blight."

"Who says?" Lilyth was hissing, spitting like a cat ready to claw its attackers. "Who says we must end the Blight? Why should I care about the people of Ferelden? What has anyone ever done for me?"

"Such anger, from such a young mind," Morrigan's mother remarked calmly. "I wonder what life has done to you, to make you so bitter. Or, were you simply born under a dark moon?"

Lilyth straightened up, refusing to answer. The red haze of anger was fading from her vision and with it, her loss of control. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and mentally cursed herself for letting the failed Templar anger her so much. His thoughts and opinions didn't matter to her; she knew she was no coward. A coward would not have the determination to take life into her own hands. A coward would not have survived Mistress Brinna.

The old woman smiled, as if she knew what Lilyth was thinking. "It does not matter whether you intend to defeat the Blight or not. You would be a fool to try and leave the Wilds on your own." She gazed out through the thick cluster of trees. "The darkspawn erupt from the ground like a plague of locusts, and swarm through the mists. It is only my magic that keeps them from this place." She turned that amused smile back on Lilyth, who had a strong urge to slap it off her. "If you try to leave on your own you will be killed, and all that I have done in saving your life would have been for nothing."

Lilyth scowled, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. But, then she hesitated. If what the old woman said was true—and what reason did she have to lie—then perhaps she should not be so hasty. She had no desire to risk her life by ending the Blight, but she had no illusions of battling a horde of darkspawn on her own. Her scowl deepened. She felt like she was being forced into a corner again, and fought the urge to stamp her foot childishly and storm off.

Aedan took advantage of her silence. "You said you wanted to get to Denerim. Why? What's there?"

"My phylactery," Lilyth said shortly. "Though the templars agreed to let me out of the Tower, I have no doubts that they will still keep watch over me. Once my phylactery is destroyed, I will no longer be their pawn."

The old witch laughed. "Now, _that _is a desire I can understand well enough."

Aedan ignored her. "Look, if Morrigan's mother is correct—"

"Do not speak about me as if I am not here, boy."

He frowned at the old woman. "Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You never told us your name and, somehow, I didn't think you'd appreciate being called 'that insane woman who seems to show up at very convenient times'."

Morrigan's mother laughed. "Oh, _you _I like. Names are pretty, but useless. Though, I suppose if you must give me one, call me Flemeth."

"Flemeth?" Alistair suddenly asked. "_The _Flemeth, the one from the legends?"

The old woman inclined her head, which could have meant either yes or no, but Aedan held up a hand to silence Alistair. "I don't care who, or what, she is." He turned to Lilyth. "You need to get to Denerim, right?" Lilyth nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this. "If you can't leave the Wilds on your own, why not at least come with us for a time? We'll have to go to Denerim at some point; it's the largest city in Ferelden, and _someone _needs to tell the Landsmeet what Loghain did. You can find your phylactery then."

Lilyth pursed her lips, considering his suggestion. "And, when we reach Denerim, you will accept that I shall destroy my phylactery and leave? I have your word that you will not alert the templars about my plan, or what I am?" The last thing she needed was another man threatening to tell the Chantry who she was and what she wanted to do.

Aedan nodded. "You have my word. But, you must agree to aid us until that time."

She thought about her options for a moment. Aedan did have a point; she really didn't relish the thought of making her way to Denerim on her own. She was a powerful mage, and could take care of herself, but that was part of the problem. The rest of the foolish world hated and feared mages. She didn't care for the thought of fighting a group of templars on her own. Better to have a group of allies at her side, at least for a time.

Aedan watched her calmly, as if he would wait however long it took for her to reach her decision. _Her _decision. That, more than anything else, swayed her. "Very well. I will stay with you until we reach Denerim. Then, I shall destroy my phylactery, and leave."

Flemeth watched the two of them with that maddening smile on her ancient face, as smug as if she had predicted this very outcome. She reached into the pocket of her dress and drew out a few scrolls, then looked towards the door of her hut, where Morrigan was exiting. "Now, before you all march off to do what needs to be done, there are a few more things I can offer you."

oOo

"Look, all I'm saying is that we now have two, _two_, apostates with us. One of them is _actually_ a maleficar, and we aren't completely sure about the other! You're really telling me you don't have a problem with this?"

The frantic, hushed voice of the failed templar floated back to Lilyth, causing her ears to twitch at the sound. He and Aedan were walking ahead of the two women, keeping an eye out for more darkspawn, and she toyed around with the idea of telling Alistair that she could hear his nervous whispers. These long ears of hers weren't just for show; elves could hear much better than humans could.

But, before she could make up her mind whether or not to destroy yet another illusion of his, Morrigan glanced down at her with a curious look. "You do not seem at all daunted by this journey. I was under the impression that you had no desire to join us, or do anything to help end the Blight."

Lilyth looked up at the witch. "I could say the same thing about you."

Morrigan inclined her head, as if the point was well made. "I suppose you could. But, I truly do not wish to see the Blight ravage the country. Should the darkspawn spread north, it could grow quite difficult for me to outrun it. Yet, you are planning to abandon your fellow Wardens; I find that curious."

"Do you?" Lilyth shrugged as she delicately picked her way over the rough ground. She wasn't quite used to such long walks, and was not having an enjoyable time of it. "I know better than to stand in the middle of a storm. Even with those treaties your mother gave us, the chances of ending this Blight are slim. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for the good of another."

Morrigan looked almost amused. "And, do you plan to keep your word? We are out of the Wilds now; will you not leave once we reach Lothering?"

"No, I will not." She didn't bother to discuss her reasoning, doubting that Morrigan would understand even if she spelled it out. It was rare that Lilyth was given a choice in anything. The freedom to choose was a precious gift, one that was often abused and wasted. Lilyth had spent her entire life under the rule of someone else. No one had ever asked for her opinion, no one had ever given her the right to decide for herself. She had been granted that opportunity when Aedan had asked whether or not she wished to go with them, and she had no intention of abandoning her choice.

Aedan's mutt, Fang, pranced around happily in the grass, barking and wagging his little nub tail as he dove after this or that imaginary animal. Morrigan watched him for a moment before turning her attention back to Lilyth. "I do have yet another question, if you will indulge me."

Lilyth nodded silently. She didn't mind Morrigan's comments or questions. Indeed, she was grateful for the distraction from this miserable hike towards Lothering. She had spent the first half of her life surrounded by the gilded halls of the Mistress, and the second half in the stone tower of the Circle. Her legs were already beginning to cramp, and she was almost positive that when she took off her boots she'd discover blisters on the bottoms of her feet.

"Your fellow Warden, the idiot templar, has been whining about blood magic from the first moment that I met him. I suppose it is true, then? You are a blood mage?"

"I am."

"Yet, you are not an abomination." Morrigan said it as a fact.

"No, I am not." Lilyth tossed the witch a surprised look. "Most people assume that blood magic and demonic possession go hand-in-hand."

"Fortunately for me, Mother raised me away from the foolish superstitions of the Chantry. But, more than that, you do not seem the sort who would be stupid enough to trust the word of a demon."

Lilyth found herself smiling. Like most women, she could almost always be soothed by flattery. "Well, thank you for the compliment. I have never spoken to a demon, nor have I ever met anyone who was possessed by one. My Mistress was taught by her master when she was a young apprentice and, in her turn, she taught us."

Morrigan looked genuinely interested. "Mother has taught me much about the subject. I know a few of the ancient spells, but I would be curious to see what spells you know. Perhaps, in time, I may learn them."

Lilyth winced as her foot came into contact with a particularly jagged rock. At this rate, she was going to ruin her boots. She tried to ignore the painful throbbing on the soles of her feet, and instead focused on Morrigan. "A favor for a favor, perhaps?"

"What would you wish me to do in return?"

"You said you can take the form of the forest animals; I should like to learn that." Lilyth frowned. "I have only heard a little about such ancient magic; in the Tower they make it sound just as bad as blood magic. There are almost no books on the subject."

Morrigan nodded. "A fair trade, should you have the desire to learn. However, taking on the shape of another creature is more than just reciting the spell; you must study the animal, and learn from it before you can begin to understand it."

Lilyth agreed, and the group continued on in silence for a time. Even Alistair had finally shut up, when he had realized that Aedan wasn't going to react to his fearful ramblings about abominations and maleficar. Instead, he succumbed to a depressed silence, staring at the ground as if it would hold him to reality. Lilyth suspected that he was thinking about Duncan. When they were at Ostagar, Alistair had followed him around like a little shadow, always eager for praise or a kind word.

Lilyth shook her head, scoffing at the very idea of Duncan being an object of worship. He had been nothing more than a liar, simple as that. She was glad he was dead.

After a few more hours—though to Lilyth it felt like a lifetime—they finally reached a large bridge that Morrigan called the Imperial Highway. Although Lilyth was tired, very tired, of all this walking, the firm road _did _offer her a small bit of relief. It was better than picking her way across the grass, rocks, and sticks in the Wilds. At any rate, she could see the small village of Lothering ahead, and was eager for an inn to rest in. Perhaps the maids could bring up a tub of warm water and she could wash the dirt and dust of the road from her hair and skin.

But, of course, as they tried to enter the village, they were stopped by a small group of men who wore pathetically simple armor and fingered pitiful weapons threateningly.

"Look alive, gentlemen," one of them said cheerfully. He seemed to be the one in charge, given that the others became more alert at his words. "We've got more travelers to attend to!"

"Uh, they don' look like simple travelers." One of his companions, a pale man with a giant head and a dumb look on his face, shifted nervously. "They don' have their things with 'em, and they look armed. Maybe we just let these ones pass?"

Aedan crossed his arms with a scowl; Lilyth got the impression that he was just as irritated as she was. "A voice of reason among bandits. Will wonders never cease?"

Morrigan scoffed. "They are fools to get in our way. Let us just kill them and be done with it."

The man in charge shook his head sadly. "Now, is that any way to greet strangers? A simple ten silvers, and you're free to pass."

"You can see that we're armed," Aedan said coldly. "We have better weapons than you, at any rate. Are you really going to make us kill all of you?"

The leader continued to try and convince Aedan to just pay them while the other bandits shifted their weapons menacingly. Lilyth was starting to grow tired of this charade. Why was Aedan even bothering to listen to him? At this rate, they wouldn't reach Denerim until _after_ the Archdemon had destroyed it.

Tch. This was stupid. She knew where it was going to end; the bandit leader wasn't going to suddenly run away, and neither were they. It would lead to bloodshed no matter what, so she might as well hurry things along. Since no one was paying any sort of attention to her, Lilyth pulled out one of the daggers she wore at her belt and subtly cut a line down the back of her left wrist. Normally, she preferred to cut someone else when using blood magic, since it posed a danger and risked leaving behind a scar, but sometimes it was necessary.

The arguing voices became a dull hum in the background of Lilyth's mind as she watched the thick blood trickle down the back of her arm. She had to be extra careful when using her own blood; if she pulled too much out of her body she risked causing serious injury, if not death, to herself. So, she had to only draw out what was needed, nothing more. She pulled the blood out of her vein until it was pooled in her right hand.

She hoped this idea would work. That dumb companion of the bandit leader looked as though he had never had a serious thought in his life; she suspected that he wasn't strong enough to fight her. The blood, which controlled the power of life, strengthened her will. It gave her the ability to force her mind on the dumb bandit, without ever making contact, and soon she felt herself connected to the man. She saw his eyes shift and turn red, and briefly wondered why no one else could see it. But, no matter; she was connected to him, and that was all that mattered. She was able to use that bond to lace poison through his mind.

_Kill your leader._

_Wha? B-but I don..._

_You want to kill him, don't you? Are you not sick of following him? Does he give you the biggest cut of your findings? Or,__ does he take all the coin for himself?_

_He... he does. And,__ he orders me around._

_Then,__ do as I say. Kill him. Kill them all._

That was all she needed to do; the man's mind was so weak, he could barely work up the effort to fight her. She watched, amused, as he suddenly drew out his sword and stabbed the bandit leader in the back. The man gasped and crumpled to the ground but, before his companions had time to understand what was going on, the one Lilyth had trapped twisted around and stabbed another one. His red eyes were blank; Lilyth could see that he had lost all control over himself, and she silently congratulated herself on such a fine job.

Alistair jumped back from the fight with his sword and shield held out before him, uncertain of what was going on, but Aedan didn't hesitate for a moment; neither did Morrigan. While the nobleman stabbed one of the bandits staring in shock, the witch surrounded the others in a halo of fire. Lilyth could hear them screaming as their very flesh began to burn, but she was too busy cutting off her chain of connection to the dumb bandit to pay attention.

Soon, it was quiet; the flames died away, and the only bandit left alive was the one Lilyth had forced to turn against his allies. Aedan sheathed his daggers and turned to see Lilyth with her hand pressed over her wound, trying to staunch the blood. He gestured to the dumb bandit. "That's your doing, I take it?"

"Of course. Morrigan, do you have a bandage I might use?" The witch dug around in her knapsack and pulled out a piece of cloth. She handed it to Lilyth with a sly grin on her face.

Aedan walked over to the bandit left alive. He stood silently, with a blank expression on his face as if he couldn't see or hear them. "So, what do we do with this one?"

"We might as well kill him," Lilyth said. She wrapped the cloth around her wrist firmly.

"What?" Alistair shouted. "You just... that was blood magic! You just used blood magic and took over his mind, and now you want to kill him?"

"Really, Alistair, this is starting to get quite annoying." Lilyth used her teeth to pull the knot of the bandage. "You know that I am a blood mage; I don't see why you should act so surprised that I used blood magic. As far as the bandit, my control over his mind is gone. Soon, he will regain his senses, and what do you think he will try to do to us? Better to kill him now."

Morrigan closed her knapsack and slung it back over her shoulder. "I agree. We will be forced to kill him anyway."

Aedan nodded grimly, and slit the man's throat with such speed that Alistair didn't even have time to utter yet another protest. The boy Warden looked at them as if he had suddenly walked into a den of monsters. "How many more innocent people are we going to kill?"

"He was hardly innocent, Alistair." Aedan bent down and began rummaging through the bandits' pockets. "I'd say they've killed a fair share of refugees. What we've done is a service to this town."

The failed templar continued to mutter protests about demons and blood magic, but no one was paying him much attention. Aedan found a large purse on the leader; he slipped it into his pocket and looked up at Lilyth. "So, what you did was mind control?" She nodded, wondering what his next question would be. Most people tended to have a fearful opinion of such a talent. "I'm curious; does it work on anyone? For instance," he pointed at Alistair, "could you make him do something?"

Alistair scowled. "I dare her to try it. I may not have taken my templar vows, but I _do _have some of their talents."

Lilyth couldn't help but giggle at how offended the boy Warden looked. "I doubt I could do anything to him. Much as he whines and complains about everything, our failed templar here seems to know exactly who he is. He is strong in his convictions, wrong and foolish as they are. Such magic only works on one who doesn't know their own mind, who falters, hesitates, and questions themselves."

" 'Tis just as Mother described," Morrigan remarked thoughtfully. "An interesting talent."

Alistair stormed off in a huff, clearly realizing that no one was going to listen to him. Aedan straightened up from the bandits, having collected all that he could find. "A useful talent. Should make things easier if we encounter more bandits."

Lilyth studied him with interest. "Then, you do not have a problem with such magic?" She could understand Morrigan's acceptance. After all, the witch had been raised away from the Chantry by a mother who seemed almost as ancient as Thedas itself. But Aedan was a nobleman, who would have been taught to follow Andraste and the Maker. Much as she was grateful for his casual acceptance—she didn't need to deal with another fool, after all—she found herself surprised by it.

The young man glared at his fists. "Howe didn't need blood magic to slaughter my family. He didn't need a blood mage to convince him to turn on his best friend and ally." With visible effort, he unclenched his hands and tried to relax. "Let's just go get Alistair, and find an inn."


	7. Chapter 7

_Lots of thanks to my wonderful beta, Suilven, who went through this chapter patiently and fixed all of my numerous mistakes_

* * *

><p><strong>Hand in Unlovable Hand<strong>

Alistair was having a bad day.

He trudged silently behind Aedan and the two mages, glaring at the ground and ignoring the refugees rushing about as he and the others walked towards the inn. It had been made painfully obvious to him that no one wanted or cared about his opinion on anything, so he grudgingly kept his thoughts to himself.

But, he couldn't understand _why_ no one would listen to him. He might not have taken his vows, but he was still raised as a templar, and had most of the skills that a templar did. He had been trained in the Chantry, raised from a young age to follow the words of Andraste. He knew how evil blood magic was; he wasn't just protesting against it for the sake of hearing his own voice.

Fine, he could reluctantly see why Morrigan had no problem with Lilyth's blood magic. She was, after all, an apostate witch, raised by an old woman who might or might not be the Flemeth from ancient legends. Obviously, her moral compass didn't exactly point north.

But Aedan? He wasn't a mage; he was a member of the nobility. How could he not see how evil blood magic was? He'd said he came from Highever; he had to have been raised by the teachings of the Chantry, and the Chantry was very clear on its opinion of such magics. Even if he didn't follow the Chant of Light, or wasn't a devout Andrastrian, they had all seen Lilyth get into the head of that one bandit and force him to turn against his allies.

Why was Alistair the only one who saw the problem with this? If she could do that to a bandit, a man she'd never met, what was to stop her from doing something similar to any of them? She'd claimed that it wouldn't work on just anyone, but why should they trust her word? It was obvious to all of them that she had few scruples; what was to stop her from turning on them if it suited her?

Not for the first time, he wished with all his heart that Duncan was still here. Alistair was in desperate need of his advice, his calm assurance that everything would be okay. But, more than that, he wanted to know what Duncan had possibly been thinking, recruiting a blood mage into the ranks of the Grey Wardens.

To be in the Grey Wardens was one of the highest of honors! It wasn't a title handed out to just anyone! The Grey Wardens were an elite order of heroes, destined to protect the world from the threat of the darkspawn. They gave up everything; their lives, their homes, everything they ever knew , to protect the world in secret. Why would Duncan give that title to such an obviously dishonorable woman?

Alistair found himself wondering if what Ser Jory had said was true; was it possible that Lilyth had done something to Duncan's mind, tricking him into recruiting her? But, there was a problem with that thought. She had been very angry during the Joining ritual, and had even tried to leave. Duncan had been forced to threaten her into drinking the blood. That didn't seem to fit with the thought that she was controlling his mind.

Alistair balled his gloved hands into fists, staring at the ground so no one would see the tears threatening to fall. Why? Why did Duncan have to die? Why did he have to leave behind all of this confusion? Did he know something about Lilyth that Alistair didn't? He felt like everything he believed about the Wardens was suddenly open to question. And the worst part was that he'd never again be able to ask Duncan for his thoughts or opinions, or question his commands. Duncan was dead. All that was left was an empty void, and a mire of confusion that could never be cleared.

As they approached the small building called "Dane's Refuge", Aedan turned around to face the group of them. "I don't think it would be wise to tell anyone here that we're Grey Wardens. Call me paranoid, but I think it would be best to tell anyone who asks that we're part of Fergus Cousland's guard. They were out scouting the Wilds before the battle; we can say we got separated when the darkspawn attacked and are on our way to Highever."

"And what are Morrigan and I?" Lilyth asked irritably. "We're hardly dressed like soldiers; I assume we're supposed to be servants?"

Aedan smirked. "If you don't like it, we can always say that you two are our doxies."

Both women scoffed arrogantly; if they weren't of different races, Alistair might have thought they were related, what with their ability to remain disdainful and narcissistic at the same time. He shook his head, trying not to imagine how hard this journey was going to be with both of them harassing him every step of the way.

Morrigan looked around at the nearby houses where small families were trying to finish packing their belongings and get away from Lothering before the Blight fell upon them. "Look how they scurry about! I doubt many will question us too closely. They have other things on their minds."

Aedan nodded. "I agree, but I don't want to draw too much attention to us. As far as we know, the three of us are the only Wardens to survive Ostagar; I don't want people asking too many questions about how we managed that." He pushed the door open and walked into the inn.

Alistair looked around the bar area, at once noticing the distinct stench of fear and desperation. There were crowds of people clustered around tables and in the corners, whispering furiously, occasionally glancing over their shoulders as if they feared being overheard. Normally, at a bar like this, one would hear loud laughter, obnoxious singing, and serving girl's giggling. But this... this was too quiet, giving off a chill of fear that sent shivers down his spine. People nursed their drinks quietly with their shoulders slumped; it seemed as though they had already given up hope of outrunning the Blight.

As he glanced around the room, taking in the scene, he saw a young man put an arm around his sweetheart, holding her against his chest while her body shook with what were possibly tears. Alistair felt his resolve strengthen. _This_ was why Grey Wardens were needed. This was what they protected the world from; the threat of the Blight. The darkspawn hadn't even attacked Lothering yet, and already people were giving up hope. They knew it was impossible to outrun the Blight; all they could do was wait for death, with a drink in their hand and a prayer on their lips.

This was why Alistair had wanted to become a Grey Warden. To protect these people.

"Oi! Lookie 'ere men; I think we just been bless'd!"

The rough voice shook Alistair from his thoughts; he looked towards the sound and saw three armed guards standing in front of Aedan and Lilyth with sneers on their faces. Alistair studied the guards and saw the decorated bands around their upper arms; he could tell that they were from Gwaren, Loghain's land. His heart plummeted. Maker only knew what they wanted.

"We've spent all day lookin' for you three Grey Wardens," one of the guards said, looking from Aedan, to Lilyth, and then to Alistair.

"Oh look, some of Loghain's servants," Aedan said with a sarcastic grin. "Well, here we are. So you can either tell us what it is Loghain wants with us, or get out of our way."

A small crowd was beginning to gather around them to watch the confrontation, and a redheaded woman stepped out. She was a pretty woman, with a delicate face and cropped hair, dressed in the robes of the Chantry. She had a sweet smile on her face as she glanced towards the three guards. "Surely, gentlemen, there is no need for trouble." Alistair recognized her accent as Orlesian. "I should think you have plenty enough to do without disturbing those who are obviously simple travelers."

One of the guards reached for a sword at his side. "They're more than that; they're Grey Wardens, those who abandoned our king at Ostagar. Now get out of the way, miss. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same treatment as them." He pulled the sword from its scabbard and faced Aedan while the other two grabbed their own weapons. "Loghain has declared all Grey Wardens as traitors to the Crown. Our orders are to take you all in, dead or alive."

Alistair reached for his sword and shield, preparing for a fight, while Aedan pulled out his daggers. "If it's a fight you want, we're more than happy to oblige," Aedan said.

The ensuing fight wasn't too terribly difficult. There were only three guards and, with the aid of the Chantry sister—Alistair was surprised to see her whip out a dagger and fight alongside them—there was five of them. If anything, their greatest problem was dealing with the environment, as it was difficult for Alistair to swing his sword around while trying to avoid the tables and chairs.

Dimly, he heard the people in the area screaming and scrambling to get out of the way, and had to do his best to avoid hitting an innocent bystander. As he struck one of the guards with the pommel of his sword, he noticed Lilyth send a chain of lightning that hit all three guards, while Morrigan sent a curse that slowed their movements.

With so much stacked against them, the fight was over in a matter of moments, and Alistair was pleased to see that they had only broken one table. Two of the guards were dead, and he saw Lilyth crouched over the last one with a knife out, ready to slit his throat.

Suddenly, the Chantry sister was by Lilyth's side with her hand out, gripping tightly to Lilyth's arm to hold her back. The blood mage looked up irritably. "What do you want?"

"Do not kill him!" the sister protested.

Lilyth scoffed and yanked her arm away from the redhead's grasp. "Why should I not? He was ready to see us dead."

Much as Alistair hated to admit it—though he would never say it out loud—he kind of agreed with Lilyth. The guards had tried to kill them, and almost injured many of these innocents in the tavern. Why should they leave him alive?

The guard's eyes were widened with fear as he tried to stare at the point of the knife sticking to the skin on his neck. The sister looked down at him with a pitying gaze. "He has surrendered. There is no honor in slaughtering an unarmed man."

Lilyth grinned at that, a feral smile that made the hair on the back of Alistair's neck stand up. She reached down and patted the guard's cheek, as one might pet a friendly mabari. "It is a cruel world, and this poor man chose the wrong side of a fight. This is what happens when you choose the wrong master."

"Perhaps, he can serve a better purpose," Aedan suddenly remarked thoughtfully.

Lilyth sighed dramatically and looked up at him in contempt. "This is really very annoying. _You _do not wish for me to kill him, either?"

Aedan waved the remark aside as if it was beneath his notice. "I don't really care if he lives or dies. But I _was_ thinking that maybe he can do something more for us." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "If we let him go, we can send him with a message to Loghain, to warn him about coming against us."

Lilyth grinned like a little girl promised a special treat and pulled the knife away. She sat back on her heels and clapped her hands together, ignoring the guard, who whimpered in relief. "Oh, I rather like that idea!" She hopped to her feet, acting like an excited child. Was she _completely_ immune to any sort of feeling? "What shall we tell Loghain?"

Aedan grinned, as if he was actually amused by her behavior. Alistair watched the two of them and found his heart sinking into his stomach. They were making him nervous. Aedan turned back to the guard, who slowly climbed to his feet, favoring his left arm, which had blood dripping out of a wound. "You will take a message to Loghain; is that clear?" Aedan demanded.

"Y-yes, ser."

"Tell him..." Aedan thought for a moment before continuing. "Tell him that the Grey Wardens know what really happened at Ostagar. Tell him that we're coming for him, and this time he won't have the chance to turn tail and flee."

"Right away, ser." The guard dipped a shaky bow and ran out of the inn as fast as he could.

With the fight over and the guards either dead or gone, everyone was starting to slowly calm down and go back to their drinks, laughing nervously about what had happened. The bar keep kept muttering about the cost of a broken table but, after Aedan tossed him a gold sovereign, he changed his tune rather quickly. In fact, everyone seemed rather glad that the guards were gone. Apparently, they had been causing all sorts of problems; demanding answers, roughing people up, or just generally being obnoxious. Everyone was glad to see them gotten rid of.

Three of the servants started to pull the two dead bodies away, while Aedan ordered an ale for him and Alistair only, since both Morrigan and Lilyth turned their noses up at the thought of drinking. Maker, they even found drinking to be beneath them.

They found a corner table to sit at, and as they went towards it Alistair noticed that the Chantry sister was following behind them. Before he got a chance to mention it, Aedan whirled around and faced her. "Is there something that you wanted, sister?"

She smiled at them all, looking somewhat simple-minded, in Alistair's opinion. "I wanted to apologize for interfering with your business. But I could not stand by while you were threatened."

Morrigan looked down her nose at the redhead. "Is that merely a clever way of saying that you always insert yourself in the affairs of others?"

The sister's eyes widened, as if surprised by the insinuation. "No! That is not it at all! I simply..." She trailed off and glanced around the room before lowering her voice. "I heard the men say that they were looking for any surviving Grey Wardens. I stole a peek at the sketch they had of you, and I knew who you were when you first entered. That is why I spoke up."

Aedan crossed his arms. "You were waiting for the Grey Wardens? What did you need us for?"

The sister clasped her hands together as if praying. "You are fighting the Blight, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do, is it not? I know that you will need all of the help you can get. I wished to offer you my services."

"Why so eager to join us?" Aedan asked skeptically. "If Loghain has declared us traitors to the Crown, I assume that being seen with us isn't exactly healthy."

The redhead smiled up at him. "The Maker told me to."

Lilyth choked on a laugh. "Oh, this is _just _what we need. A Chantry sister who claims to hear the Maker." She continued to giggle until she saw the thoughtful look on Aedan's face. Then, her laughter died. "You are not seriously considering this, are you?"

Aedan shrugged. "We have a seemingly impossible task; I should think we'd be fools to turn away help." He turned to the sister. "Tell us your name and what aid you can offer. I'm afraid we need more than prayers."

"I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters here in the Chantry." She dipped her head formally. "But, I was not always a sister. I can fight; I can do more than fight. My skill is best with the bow, but I can carry daggers as well. I put aside my previous life when I joined the Chantry, but if it is the Maker's will I shall gladly take up my arms again."

"Perhaps Aedan's skull was cracked worse than Mother thought," Morrigan remarked casually.

Alistair was barely listening to them; he couldn't keep silent any longer. Leliana seemed like an innocent, a simple-minded innocent. If she was raised in the Chantry, she had been secluded away from the rest of the world; she would be unable to handle the evils of a blood mage. It was his duty to warn her about Lilyth. "I doubt you want to join us, Leliana." Everyone turned to look at him, but he was determined to continue. "Apparently, the Grey Wardens recruit blood mages; your life would be in danger."

His intention had been to simply warn Leliana, so that she could go back to the Chantry. And, if she happened to alert the templars, well, then it wouldn't be his fault, right? But, he hadn't really taken into account the fact that they were in a crowded bar. If he had, Alistair might have kept quiet. Or, maybe he would have still said it. He couldn't be certain. Part of him wanted to drag Lilyth to the templars for what she was; the other part wanted to force her to do something good and help them end the Blight.

"Did you say blood mage?" a woman gasped loudly. They all turned to see her staring at them as if afraid they were going to suddenly slaughter everyone in a blind rage. "A blood mage?"

The whole tavern suddenly went quiet. Alistair glanced at Lilyth, and was inwardly pleased to see the color drain from her face. She took a step back, as if she wanted to run, and Alistair fought the urge to smile. Maybe this mob would spare him the choice of deciding whether or not to alert the templars. Good. If the templars dragged her back to the Circle Tower, the world would be free of one more blood mage.

However, Alistair hadn't really realized that, of the two mages with them, Morrigan was the one who looked far more wild than Lilyth. With her strange outfit, gold eyes, and ebony hair, at first glance she looked far less normal than Lilyth, who at least gave off the appearance of a simple elf. The witch even carried a staff, whereas Lilyth didn't. So, when the panic began to set in amongst the crowd of people, one of the women pointed at Morrigan and began shrieking. "She's a blood mage! She'll kill us all! Someone go find Ser Bryant!"

Soon everyone was screaming and trying to run from the inn, knocking over tables and chairs in their haste to escape. "Dammit!" Aedan swore loudly. He grabbed Morrigan's arm roughly and shoved her unceremoniously from the inn, avoiding the people who screeched and dove out of their way. Alistair, Lilyth, and Leliana followed him silently.

Once outside, he dragged Morrigan to a silent area behind the inn, where they were hidden by shadows and no one could see them. Once they were hidden from sight, the witch took the form of a raven and hovered in the air, angrily squawking. Aedan told her to go wait outside the village and, with a sharp peck to Alistair's head, she flew off in the air.

Rubbing the sensitive spot on his head, Alistair noticed that Lilyth was watching him with a slight smile curving on her lips. But before he could make a sharp comment, Aedan twisted around and roughly grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall of the tavern. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he shouted.

Alistair shoved Aedan away from him. "I was just trying to warn Leliana of what she'd be walking in to!"

"Bullshit! You _wanted_ everyone to hear what you said; you wanted them to alert the templars!"

Alistair was beginning to grow really angry. Why was Aedan mad at _him_? _She _was the blood mage;she was the one who tricked people's minds and forced them to do things. "So what if I did? She's a blood mage, a maleficar! How can we trust anything she says or does?"

"Excuse me, but is it truly wise to argue here?" Leliana ventured hesitantly.

Aedan ignored her, instead looking at Alistair as though he was ready to punch him. "You decided that I was in charge," he snapped. "Since I'm in charge you will follow _my _orders. Lilyth is helping us against the Blight, and we need her magic. If you so much as breathe _one word_ of her magic to the Chantry, the templars, or anyone, I will personally run you through." He fingered his daggers, as if to drive the point home.

Alistair could barely believe what he was hearing. Why was Aedan getting so worked up about this? Was he just stupid? Didn't he realize what blood mages could do? "Why do you care about this so much?"

"Because we have a Blight to defeat! We have an Archdemon threatening the whole of Ferelden, and I'm not going to spend the whole time wondering whether or not you can work with our allies! Whatever you think, Lilyth is a Warden and if you can't accept that then tell me now." Aedan crossed his arms and stared Alistair down. "Can you, or can you not, work with her?"

The silence stretched out for a few tension filled moments while Alistair considered his options. He didn't want to fight with Aedan, especially not over an evil blood mage. If he left the Wardens, he'd be abandoning everything he believed in. But, how could he work with her? Maybe... maybe it was better to keep his enemies close. He had templar skills; he could keep an eye on Lilyth, and if she did something threatening he could protect them from her. Yes, that would be a better option than leaving the Wardens. "I can work with her; I won't mention her blood magic." The words tasted disgusting in his mouth, but he managed to get them out.

He heard the bitch snicker cattily. "A pity. I had half hoped that we would finally be rid of him."

Aedan rounded on her. "And you! Stop harassing him and egging him on! If he is not allowed to mention your magic to others, you are not allowed to mess with him. You are free to use your blood magic in areas where you won't get caught, and only if it will help us, but I won't have you causing problems either!"

Lilyth raised an eyebrow, looking very displeased at his words, but simply sniffed dismissively and walked off towards the other side of the village without a word. Aedan threw up his hands and followed after her, but Alistair heard his muttered comment, "Maker, I should just kill both of you and save myself the headache."

Alistair and Leliana were the only two left standing. The redhead watched Aedan and Lilyth for a moment, and then turned back to Alistair with something of a nervous smile. "Well, that was... interesting, no?"

"Interesting?" Alistair let out a hard laugh. "That's not the word I would have used."

"We should follow after them." Leliana inclined her head towards Aedan and Lilyth. "I doubt we will be able to stay in the village now."

She glided off after the other two and Alistair hurried to catch up with her. "Wait, you still want to help us? Even though you know what Lilyth is now?"

Leliana nodded. "Of course. I told you that the Maker asked me to aid you against the Blight. That will not change simply because one of your companions is a maleficar."

"But, you agree with me that she should be taken to the templars, don't you?"

The Chantry sister hesitated. "What I believe is of no importance. It is not for us to judge." She raised her eyes to the sky. "Only the Maker is deemed fit enough to judge the hearts of others. But, perhaps by helping us against the Blight, she has a chance to atone for her past mistakes."

Alistair scoffed. "She's not planning to fight the Blight, you know. She's only planning to stay with us until we reach Denerim; then she's going to just leave."

Leliana smiled sweetly. "Who can say what will happen? The Maker works in mysterious ways, no?"

The two of them fell into silence for a time until they saw Aedan and Lilyth standing by a large cage with a strange, giant man standing inside. Aedan was trying to speak with the giant, but he seemed disinclined to say anything. As they approached, Leliana whispered to them that the man was a Qunari who had slaughtered an entire family, even the children. The Revered Mother had put him in the cage so that the Maker could decide his fate.

Lilyth stared at the cage with a hard edge to her eyes. "What does it matter what he did? This is a strong man; he should not have been put in a cage like some sort of exotic animal, set out for all to come by and gawk at him."

Alistair was surprised; she sounded almost... sympathetic? "Why would you care?"

Immediately, the look was gone and she waved her hand, as if the matter was unimportant. "I don't; not really. I merely offered an opinion."

"I'm more inclined to leave him there," Aedan remarked, studying the giant. "If he killed an entire family in cold blood, I doubt we could trust him to help us."

"A wise decision," the Qunari replied coldly. "Now, leave me be."

Aedan shrugged. "Very well." He looked at the others. "Come, let's find Morrigan and get away from Lothering."

oOo

Lilyth peeled her boots off and rubbed her sore feet, wincing as her fingers pressed against a particularly painful callous. Dammit, this was so annoying. If not for that idiot of a failed templar, she could be sitting on a comfortable bed at the inn, soaking her tired feet in a scented bowl of hot water.

But, no. Thanks to the boy Warden's idiotic fear of blood mages, now she was in the middle of some filthy forest, sitting on the ground like some common peasant woman while that mutt barked obnoxiously in the distance and Morrigan tried to cook a decent meal from pitiful ingredients.

Eventually, she gave up on her feet; she was going to have to just accept the pain. For a moment, Lilyth almost wished herself back in Mistress Brinna's beautiful house in Amaranthine. The Mistress had always ensured that her pets were indulged, given almost anything they needed. They did, after all, bring in more money than the rest of her servants. And Lilyth, as one of the Mistress' especially favored pets, was treated like a princess.

She was fed delicious delicacies from all over Thedas, and was pampered like an exquisite jewel. Mistress Brinna had always said she would make a fortune as long as Lilyth kept her looks, and so Lilyth was given special hair treatments from Antiva, scented body cream from Orlais, and exotic perfume from Rivain.

Lilyth sighed and looked around the small camp. Now where was she? Living like a common foot soldier, covered in dirt with callouses on her feet. Her fine clothes were streaked with filth, half of her nails were broken, and her entire body was sore.

She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as she felt how greasy it was. She had been reduced to a servant, forced into manual labor like some filthy street urchin. Lilyth glanced back at her pathetic tent. It had taken her two hours to figure out how to set it up, and then she had had to endure the task of actually pounding the sticks and pegs into the ground herself! Her arms felt like they were going to fall off.

Then, when she had finally managed to get it set up, she had discovered that it provided absolutely no privacy whatsoever! The tent was nothing but a giant piece of cloth tossed over a stick, open at the front and back. What sort of barbaric heathen had decided that?

Well, it wasn't like she had many things anymore. Lilyth pursed her lips and fought the urge to curse like some uncultured fishwife. Most of her things had been lost at Ostagar, and that dwarven merchant they had encountered on the road, Bodahn, only had some pitiful tunics for them to wear, which meant that technically she had only this one outfit. If her leggings were torn, she'd be forced to either wear them with holes, or go without.

Morrigan finally announced that the evening meal was finished, and everyone stopped what they were doing to gather around the fire and grab a bowl of her soup. Lilyth toyed around with the idea of refusing to eat—she was better than that, after all—but her stomach vehemently protested the thought. Reluctantly, as if she had no pride whatsoever, she followed the others and took the bowl of soup handed to her.

At least the witch knew how to use herbs and spices; Lilyth had to give her that. It almost made up for the horrid taste of peas and half-wilted potatoes, which was pretty much all the soup was since, of course, there was absolutely no fresh meat anywhere and no bread whatsoever. All they had was this thin stew. Lilyth felt that life was playing a cruel joke on her.

While everyone slurped down their pathetic idea of a meal, sounding like a pack of dogs lapping up water, Aedan glanced up from his bowl and looked around at them. "I've been thinking about where we should go from here."

"Somewhere with an inn, preferably," Lilyth muttered crossly, idly playing with her spoon while she tried to work up the courage to take another sip.

Aedan continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Thanks to Flemeth, we have the three treaties that Duncan wished to use. One for the mages of the Circle Tower, one for the dwarves of Orzammar, and one for the Dalish elves. The treaties contain signed promises; promises to aid the Grey Wardens against the Blight. We can use them to convince these people to help us."

Alistair held up his bowl right to his mouth and tipped his head back, draining the last of the soup. Lilyth grimaced to see him wipe his lips with the back of his hand. "I think we should go visit Arl Eamon, at Redcliffe Castle."

Aedan looked at him curiously. "I know Arl Eamon; I didn't know that you were acquainted with him."

The boy Warden shifted nervously and avoided the comment. "He wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all of his men. We could appeal to him for aid against Loghain. I'm sure he would be willing to help us."

The nobleman scowled. "_If _we can trust him. Remember: Eamon's men were supposed to already be at Ostagar, to help with the king's army. I want to know why he didn't show, but I don't know if it's a good idea to trust his help."

Alistair looked offended at the insinuation. "Arl Eamon is a good man! He would never have abandoned the field like Loghain did. If his men didn't show, I'm sure he has a good reason for it!"

Leliana cleared her throat tactfully and set her bowl down. "Redcliffe Village is not too far from here. It should only take a week or so, traveling on foot."

The tension between the two men slowly drained away, and Aedan nodded a bit stiffly. "Very well. Then we'll travel to Redcliffe first. From there, we can travel along Lake Calenhad and reach the Circle Tower."

Lilyth almost dropped her spoon. "The Circle Tower? Why so soon?"

"You lived in the Tower for years; the mages and templars there know you. I thought you could help convince them to join us."

Lilyth scowled down at her soup. She didn't want to go back to the Tower. If she had her way, she'd never set foot there as long as she lived. It had taken her nine years to finally escape the templar scrutiny; she didn't want to go back again. But, she had promised to help Aedan and the Wardens until they reached Denerim.

Finally, she sighed. "Very well." She jabbed a finger towards Alistair. "But, you must make him swear not to speak one word of my blood magic. No one in the Tower knows of it, and I'd rather keep it that way. I will not be much use to you if the templars kill me or turn me Tranquil." She tried to keep her voice hard, but she could hear the quaver of fear in it and worried that the others could as well. The Rite of Tranquility was the one thing she feared above all else. Every sensible mage feared it.

Aedan nodded. "Alistair has already agreed to keep silent about your blood magic, didn't you, Alistair?" The boy Warden nodded reluctantly. "And, I assume that Leliana will keep silent as well?"

They all looked at the Chantry sister, who nodded solemnly. "It is not my place to condemn another for their mistakes. Only the Maker may do that."

Lilyth pursed her lips. She didn't trust either of them farther than she could throw them, but it seemed as though she had little choice. She refused to run from something, or admit her hesitation. She wasn't afraid of Alistair or Leliana. She wasn't afraid of anyone. "Then, I will help convince the mages to join us. Irving should be willing to listen to me."

Soon the evening meal was over, and everyone gathered up their things and wandered off to either sleep, clean their weapons or, in Morrigan's case, bury herself in a book. Bodahn and his son, Sandal, took the bowls and utensils and put them back in their cart before seeing to the horse they used to pull their belongings.

Lilyth wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep for days. Exhaustion seeped through her entire body; her legs were sore from walking, her arms were sore from setting up her tent, and she could feel dirt in every pore of her body. She dearly wished for a soft bed piled high with thick blankets and plush pillows, but she had nothing but the hard ground and an itchy cloak to serve as a blanket. She didn't even have a pillow to lay her head on.

Pulling her legs up and resting her chin on her knees, she stared glumly into the fire. Though she desperately wished for sleep, it probably wasn't going to happen this evening. She knew that she could never get comfortable on the bumpy ground, with rocks and sticks poking into her back or side. Perhaps she should go try to take a bath? Bodahn had some plain soap for them to use, and Aedan had chosen a camp site near a small stream. But, that water was going to be freezing.

While she was brooding silently and trying to decide what she wanted to do, the Chantry sister walked up and quietly sat down next to her. Lilyth was immediately irritated; she really didn't feel like being pestered by a slave of the Chantry. But, Leliana didn't say anything, and eventually Lilyth grew vexed enough to speak. "Is there something you needed?"

Leliana shook her head, her cropped red hair brushing against her cheeks. Lilyth would have died if she had been born with such hair. Perhaps some people might find it attractive, but in her opinion it made women look ridiculous. "If I am to travel with the Grey Wardens, I should get to know them," the sister remarked sweetly.

"Then you should go speak with Alistair. He is a templar; I am sure that the two of you would have plenty of common interests to discuss."

"Oh, I have already talked to him. He is such a sweet man."

Lilyth rolled her eyes, not even bothering to dignify that with a response. Leliana saw the look and glanced at her curiously. "You do not think so? I know that the two of you have had disagreements, but there is no reason that that should continue."

Lilyth straightened up and tossed the sister a contemptuous scowl. "What do you want? If you've come to gossip, then you can do so with Alistair. If you've come to study the evil blood mage, then get what you need and be on your way."

Leliana's eyes widened in shock. "I... I was just trying to be polite, and start a conversation. There is no reason for you to be so angry."

"You're a sister of the Chantry," Lilyth snapped. "I already have one fool barking at me for my blood magic. I do not care to add another."

The sister lowered her eyes, as if in prayer. "It is not my place to judge you for your blood magic, Lilyth. Only the Maker has the right to judge others."

"Oh, how fortunate for me." Lilyth's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now, I would thank you to leave me alone. I do not care to listen to you preaching about the Maker."

Leliana looked up at her hesitantly. "Do you... not believe in the Maker?"

Lilyth had had enough of this; she jumped to her feet, ignoring the pain that shot up her legs. "If I told you that I did, would it get you to stop talking?" Without bothering to wait for a response, she stormed off towards Bodahn's cart and snatched one of the bars of soap, a plain tunic, and some cloth.

She left the camp and walked towards the little stream; if she was going to be kept up all night by chattering sisters and barking dogs, she might as well take a bath and get rid of some of this dirt and grime.

Once at the stream, she chose a spot hidden by trees and bushes, where she could at least have some semblance of privacy, and stripped off her clothes, laying them carefully on the ground before diving into the water. She came up with her teeth chattering; as she had expected, the water was absolutely frigid. It was almost as if her entire body had turned to ice. And she couldn't even use her magic to heat it up; the stream was too wide. She'd end up exhausting her energy.

But, she endured the cold. The water came up to her shoulders, and she scrubbed the bar of soap over her skin roughly, as if she could scrub away her thoughts.

Stupid Chantry sister. Of course Lilyth didn't believe in the Maker! How could she? She had been sold to the Mistress by her own parents; she had lost her little sister, the only pure thing in her life. If the Maker existed, he would never have allowed little Letia to die; he would never have allowed Lilyth to be sold.

Lilyth grit her teeth and scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw. Then, she tore at her scalp and hair, rubbing her fingers through it to work out the dirt until strands of hair fell into her hands. Only when she had gotten herself as clean as she could did she swim to the bank and climb out of the water, her body shaking. It was cold for a spring night, and after being in the frigid water she felt as though it was winter. She snatched the piece of cloth and dried herself off as best as she could.

It didn't matter. Lilyth repeated the words to herself over and over like a mantra, a spell to etch into her mind until she could convince herself of the truth of them. The Maker didn't exist. The past was the past. She couldn't change what had happened; there was no point in whining about the past like a frightened child. The only thing she could do was push forward.

She slipped into the worn tunic. It was of a pitiful quality, a horrid brown color, and scratchy against her skin. But, at least it would keep her from sleeping in her regular clothes; this way, she could at least try to preserve her clothing for as long as possible.

Lilyth picked up her clothing, burning with anger. She hated being a Grey Warden; she hated the stupid allies Aedan had picked up. She especially hated Leliana for putting those thoughts in her head. But, with a defeated sigh, Lilyth reminded herself that she had given her word.

For the first time in her life, she had been given a choice. Cost what it would, Lilyth would never go back on her word. She might have chosen wrong, but she had been free to choose. There was a strange power in the freedom of choices, and Lilyth would never turn her back on that. Fingering the crystal amulet around her neck, she walked silently back to camp.

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><p><em><strong>AN:** I apologize for any confusion, but I changed the location of Mistress Brinna's business from Gwaren to Amaranthine. Based on some suggestions/questions that Suilven posed, I realized that it would be far better to have the house situated in Amaranthine. The reasons for it will be made clear later on in the story, but I do apologize for any confusion._

_Lots of thanks to Wyl for his suggestion about Alistair. He posed the thought that I should write a section explaining why Alistair wasn't storming up to the templars and giving Lilyth up. He gave me a lot of other ideas as well, which were a huge help when I was writing that first section. So, many thanks to Wyl for his support and ideas :D  
><em>

_Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, and requesting alerts and I'm very sorry that I made you guys wait so long for an update. I really don't have an excuse for it except that I was busy with my friends' wedding, and my husband finally convinced me to start playing Mass Effect (where I discovered Thane). I'll make sure to update the next chapter sooner. Thank you all for your patience.  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8

_Lots of thanks to my wonderful beta, Suilven, for her patient work, awesome suggestions, and endless encouragement!_

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><p><strong>Flirt with Suicide<strong>

He had thought that he would die. He had been expecting—one might even say _hoping_—to die. But, as was often the case with his life, things didn't go as he had thought they would.

The plan had been so simple, especially for an assassin. They had clearly been lost, so busy planning where to go that no one had paid the slightest bit of attention to the shadow lurking on the edge of their camp. He had known that he could never attack such a large group on his own, but at least he had been able to get a clear idea of where they were going. So, he had gone to a nearby village and hired some pathetic men eager for coin to assist him. He had known that they would not be that useful, but he had hoped that they would have at least provided a distraction while he was dealing with his targets.

As luck would have it, he had managed to catch two of the three Grey Wardens on their own. For some reason they had strayed away from camp; it _should_ have been easy to catch them off guard and kill them. Then, he could have focused his attention on the last Warden and his job would have been done. He would have been praised to the skies for this! Perhaps he would have even been granted his own guild!

Unfortunately, he had severely underestimated the two he had managed to corner. One was a mage, who hadn't even needed to enter the battle to do damage; the other was a rogue, who had easily cut through his men without looking the least bit bothered. And, the next thing Zevran knew, he was waking up on the ground with a rope tied around his mouth and a woman peering down at him.

He was at a severe disadvantage; lying on his side as he was, he couldn't even get a good look at the woman's face, but he saw her thin lips part into a feral smile. How many times had he seen the same look on his fellow assassins?

"Why look, Aedan," she said, with a hint of laughter at the back of her throat. Her voice was light and airy, reminding him of the women from the whorehouse who managed to make every remark sound like a secret whispered across the sheets. "We came to find food, but it seems we have found an assassin instead!"

"Are you sure he's an assassin?" a man asked; Zevran assumed that it was Aedan. "How do we know he's not just a regular bandit?"

The woman's lips turned down into a pout, like a princess displeased at being questioned. "Did you not hear him shout when he attacked us? He knew we were Grey Wardens, and look at the quality of his armor. He is an assassin."

Zevran tried to move, but his arms and legs were bound together tightly. He heard the woman give a musical laugh. "Now, now, there is no need to struggle so. You look like a fish flopping around on land!"

Thoroughly annoyed, Zevran managed to twist himself onto his back, determined to get a good look at this woman who dared to mock a member of the Antivan Crows. However, she was not what he expected, though he wasn't quite sure what he _had_ been expecting. She smiled when she saw his eyes on her, and he was surprised at how beautiful she was.

Zevran had a soft spot for things of beauty—though, despite common rumors, he would never let it interfere with his work—and this woman was certainly one of them. Her skin was a bit too pale for his tastes, but he did enjoy the sharp contrast it gave to her inky black hair and wide blue eyes. If she hadn't been an elf, he might have thought she was the daughter of some important noble, given that she had the look of someone who enjoyed being pampered. He knew many a spoiled women, all of whom had a similar air about them.

She studied him with a spark in her dark eyes that would have been quite charming, had it not been for the wicked smile on her face. "Oh, you _are_ a rather handsome one, aren't you?" She sighed, looking somewhat wistful. "If only all of the people that attacked us had your looks; I would be quite content."

Zevran heard the man sigh heavily, though he couldn't see him. "Lilyth, could you _please_ not flirt with our captives?"

Again that pout; she turned away from Zevran. "Then get over here and tell me what it is you wish to do with this assassin."

"You know, if you'd only help me go through these pockets for coin, this would be much faster."

The woman, Lilyth, flipped her hair over her shoulder and put her hands on her slim hips. "I think not. If you wish to roll around in the dirt with dead men, be my guest. I, however, intend to do no such thing."

"Yet I didn't hear you complaining when we had the coin to afford a night at an inn, or buy those books you so desperately wanted."

To hear the two of them going back and forth, it was clear to Zevran that they had been working together for quite some time. Aedan was obviously the one in charge, though Lilyth didn't have the look of a woman who followed orders without some incentive. He found himself intrigued by their partnership. Were they lovers? Or was their relationship strictly relegated to the role of companion Wardens?

Well, it didn't really matter. They hadn't yet killed him, and Zevran was curious as to why that was. Were they planning to extract information from him? That didn't trouble him too much; he had no qualms about telling them what they wished to know. And perhaps... perhaps if he was charming enough, he wouldn't have to die. Perhaps he could find some way to escape this situation intact. He had thought that he would die when he challenged the Wardens, true enough, but that did not mean that he would roll over and cheerfully accept it.

Finally, Aedan came into Zevran's view, wiping his hands off on his breeches as he came to stand next to Lilyth. Zevran was intrigued to see that he was quite a handsome man, with dark blond hair that dangled over his green eyes, and tanned skin that suggested he spent most of his time outside. He was dressed in light leather armor, and had the look of a man who was used to working.

"You bound his mouth, too?" Aedan asked, raising an eyebrow in Lilyth's general direction.

The woman shrugged. "Why not? I did not care to listen to him speak while I was waiting for you. What if he annoyed me and I killed him before you could get information out of him?" She said the words so casually that Zevran found himself growing even more curious about her. Though, she had given him an idea on how to charm her into accepting his offer.

"Well, take it off so we can hear what he has to say."

With a dramatic sigh—clearly indicating that Aedan made her work too much—Lilyth knelt down in front of Zevran. He felt her hands, hardened by what seemed like fresh callouses, flutter across his cheeks before the rope was, thankfully, freed from his mouth.

She stood up, brushing the dust off her leggings while Zevran tried to get the taste of rope out of his mouth. "I thank you for freeing me; that rope was getting to be rather annoying."

Lilyth looked down at him, her eyes glittering with amusement. That was a good sign. "Ah, please forgive us for the poor accommodations. Unfortunately, when an assassin comes to kill us, we are generally more concerned with staying alive than ensuring our attacker is comfortable."

Zevran couldn't help but laugh at her words. "A fair point, my dear."

Aedan rolled his eyes, but kept the firm look on his face. "So you _are_ an assassin, then?"

Zevran turned his head to look at the man. "That is correct, ser. I am Zevran Arainai, a member of the Antivan Crows, hired for the sole purpose of killing any surviving members of the Grey Wardens. A task which I have, sadly, failed at." He took care to keep his words cheerful and light. He would not deny who he was—lying would not be a good option right now—but to sound even the least bit threatening could backfire on him. He needed to sound easy and cheerful.

Lilyth looked as though she was holding back laughter. "Oh, I _do_ like him!" She clapped her hands together, by all appearances seeming delighted at his words. "And an Antivan Crow, even! Aedan, see how important we are! The Crows do not go after just anyone!" Zevran found himself growing more and more intrigued by this woman with each word that she spoke. In his experience, a mark was not generally _pleased_ at being the target of an assassination attempt.

But Aedan seemed somewhat at a loss. "I don't think I've ever heard of the Antivan Crows."

Lilyth regarded him with an inquiring look. "Truly? I had assumed that most of the noble families would know of them." She shrugged, as if she didn't really care one way or the other. "They are an order of assassins based out of Antiva. The Mistress hired them occasionally; they are a useful tool if you do not wish for anyone to discover who is guilty of a murder."

Zevran nodded, both surprised and pleased that she knew who he was. "Quite right," he said to Aedan. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of us. In Antiva, we are quite famous."

Aedan scowled. "What are you famous for? Failing miserably against your targets?"

"Oh, is that what you Fereldans do, mock your prisoners?" Zevran shook his head in feigned sorrow. "Such cruelty."

He heard Lilyth's ripple of laughter, but Aedan didn't seem very impressed. He was going to have to work a bit harder to charm this man. "So, who hired you to kill us?" Aedan asked.

"A rather taciturn man by the name of... Loghain, I believe."

Aedan's scowl deepened, but Lilyth continued laughing. "What a clever man that Loghain is!"

"Oh, yes, he's _really_ clever," Aedan said, his words clipped. "First, he sends guards who can barely hold their own weapons, and now a Crow who can't carry out a simple assassination."

Although he knew it might erase any chance he had of survival, Zevran couldn't help the dark look that crossed his face. How dare they laugh at him! He would have bet any amount of money that he had killed more people than both of them combined, yet they laughed because he had failed once? Well, he took care to remind himself forcefully, if they wished to laugh, so be it. He had certainly endured people taunting him before, and it would be worth it if he could manage to escape this situation alive.

Aedan looked back down at Zevran. "To your knowledge, has Loghain hired anyone else to come against us?"

Zevran took care to keep his face a mask of neutrality. "Loghain is merely the one who paid for my talent, but it was another man who sought out the Crows. From the way he spoke, I think you can assume he will hire more. I believe his name was... Howe. Yes, that was it."

At once Aedan was on his knees, roughly grabbing Zevran by the front of his leather cuirass. "Howe bought you? Where is he? Did he tell you to kill me personally? To slaughter the last of the Couslands because he didn't have the courage to do it himself?"

Zevran was surprised at this dangerous turn of events, but he showed no sign of it on his face. "As far as I am aware, he is still in Denerim. But, no, he did not mention any names; I was simply told to assassinate any surviving Grey Wardens after Loghain agreed to the price."

Aedan thrust Zevran away from him and stood up with a dark look on his face. "That bastard!"

Lilyth regarded the man with a raised eyebrow. "Come now, does this truly surprise you? You, yourself, said that, with the king dead, Loghain has most likely seized control of the throne. Does it not make sense that Howe would attach himself to such a leech, in order to keep control of the title he so desperately wanted?"

"Yes, but for Loghain to work with a murderer! I _told_ him what Howe did to my family! He knows full well what a coward Howe is!"

"They are both murderers. You told me that Loghain had sworn to protect the king, and he obviously had no problems breaking _that_ oath, so why should he balk at what Howe has done?" The woman shrugged. "However, there is nothing to be done about it right this moment." She tapped Zevran's shoulder with the toe of her boot; if Zevran hadn't been bound, he would have grabbed her foot and killed her on the spot. He did not enjoy being prodded like an animal. "In the meantime, what is to be done with our failed assassin here?"

Aedan twisted around and regarded Zevran with a dark look. It seemed that his chance of surviving this was slipping from his grasp. Metaphorically, of course, given that his hands were bound. "When were you to see Loghain again?"

He knew he had to be careful in his answer. Aedan was dangerously angry, but it was clear that he was the one in charge. It didn't matter if Lilyth liked him; it seemed that Aedan would be the one to have the final say. He would have to choose his words with care. "I wasn't. If I had succeeded, my masters would have informed Loghain of my success."

"_If _you had succeeded?" Aedan asked. The lines around his eyes were relaxing slightly; it seemed that this was Zevran's perfect chance.

"Ah, what can I say? I am an eternal optimist. Though, I suppose the chances of me succeeding are quite slim now, do you not think?" He stole a glance at Lilyth and saw that she was unabashedly amused; even Aedan's lips twitched slightly. He decided to press his luck further and take the plunge. "In fact, if you are willing to listen, I have a proposal that might interest you."

"Why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

"Let us hear him out," Lilyth protested. "At the very least, he will provide us with some amusement."

Aedan sighed. "Oh, very well."

It was obvious that Aedan was listening to him very reluctantly, so Zevran decided that the best way to proceed was to be swift and to the point. "Well, here is the thing: I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That is how it works in the Crows. Even if I somehow managed to succeed now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. To be honest, I'd rather take my chances with you."

"What, you're actually offering to join us?" Aedan asked incredulously. He glanced at Lilyth who, far from looking amused like before, seemed almost solemn. She studied Zevran with a serious gaze that he couldn't quite read. "Doesn't that create a conflict," Aedan continued, "joining with your targets like that?"

Zevran acknowledged the point. "It might seem to be but, to be frank, I rather enjoy living."

"Why on Thedas would we want you?"

He was asking questions; that was always a good sign. "Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from picking locks to stealth. I could also warn you, should the Crows try something... more sophisticated."

Aedan scoffed. "Yes, because I frequently make a habit of accepting assassins and bringing them back to camp so they can finish their job later."

So, it seemed that he would refuse after all. Well, it wasn't like Zevran could truly blame the man. There had been a slim chance that Aedan would accept anyway, so he couldn't pretend that he was really surprised. "So be it. All I ask is that you make my death quick. I do not care to die slowly."

Aedan nodded and pulled out the knife hidden in his belt. But, before he got the chance to use it, before he had even reached down towards Zevran, Lilyth suddenly spoke up in a quiet voice, "I am of the opinion that we should agree to his request."

At first, Zevran was positive that he had misheard her, but then Aedan whipped around. "What? Why?"

Lilyth lowered her eyes, giving the impression that she truly didn't care one way or the other. But, then why would she have bothered to speak up in the first place?

She raised her head and looked at Aedan, her solemn expression disappearing behind an insolent sneer. "I simply think he could be useful. You have brought along every other cretin that begs us for a place; you have a failed templar and a Chantry sister following us about like dogs sniffing after their master. Why not bring the assassin, whose skills might actually serve us?"

Aedan scowled. "And how do you plan to ensure that he doesn't try to kill us again?"

Lilyth smiled at that. "If he kills Alistair or Leliana, I might actually thank him for it." Aedan continued to glower at her, until her lip stuck out in a pout. "Very well, if he threatens any of us, I'll kill him. We both know how swiftly I can cast spells."

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments; Aedan looking angry and confused, Lilyth looking amused. Zevran hardly dared breathe, afraid that the slightest sound would snuff this glimmer of hope. Finally, Aedan jerked his head in a sign of agreement and put his knife back in his belt. "Fine. But he's _your_ responsibility, and I'll hold onto his weapons." He turned to look at Zevran. "Just know that if you _do_ try anything, I can assure you that you aren't going to get a swift death."

In a matter of mere moments, the world had turned upside down and Zevran would live. He let out the breath he had been holding, wondering at this change. It almost seemed like a dream in which he would awake at any moment to find out that he was dead. Or, perhaps not wake up, as the case might be.

Lilyth bent down to untie the ropes binding his hands and feet. Zevran felt that he should say something to her; perhaps he should at least thank her? But, her face was devoid of any emotion and she didn't seem inclined to speak to him. His confusion only deepened; what brought about this change?

When he was finally unbound, he stood up and brushed himself off before bowing to her. At the very least he needed to say _something_. "For sparing my life I, Zevran Arainai, am forever in your debt. I shall follow you and remain loyal to you until such time as you see fit to release me. This I swear." He saw that she was studying him with a thoughtful expression, and allowed himself a small smile. "And, I must say, there are worse things in life than following the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

A bright smile suddenly broke out on her features; she truly was a beautiful woman. " 'Deadly sex goddess'? Oh, I rather like that! If you keep calling me by such names, I think we shall get along quite well."

Zevran found himself grinning back at her. This was going to be fun.

oOo

"So even _after_ he tried to kill you, you just decided to bring along the assassin?" Alistair questioned sharply.

"Yes, Alistair, I did. And, if _you_ don't stop complaining about every little thing, you're going to give yourself grey hair," Aedan countered, a weary edge to his voice.

Lilyth could hear their bickering on the other side of the camp, and did her best to tune their voices out. She shouldn't have been surprised by Alistair's reaction to Zevran's presence; not for the first time, she was grateful that Aedan was the one in charge. He was the one the failed templar took his complaints to, though she did feel a mild bit of pity for him having to listen to the whining. Why he didn't just kill Alistair was beyond her.

She sat on a large log near the edge of the camp, using the last of the daylight to finish the chapter of her new book. They had been lost for over a week—due to the inaccurate map they had acquired at Lothering—but, thankfully, they had managed to find a small village on the edge of South Reach. Not only had it provided them with fresh clothing and an actual, accurate map of Ferelden, Lilyth had been pleased to discover a group of apostates selling their wares right in the middle of the village.

She chuckled to herself. Truly, if the templars ever discovered how many apostates resided in Ferelden, they would most likely blow up with righteous anger. Most apostates were harmless; all they wished for was a quiet place where they could live in peace, and Lilyth could not blame them for that. They chose to live in small villages without a Chantry, places with uneducated people who believed in superstition and hedge magic; there, they were free to practice openly as healers and midwives, and the people were grateful.

The apostates she had met in the village had had quite a fine selection of books; they had offered them to her at a decent bargain, claiming that they would rather have the coin, and Lilyth had convinced Aedan to buy as many as she could carry. Unfortunately, they had had nothing on the study of human souls—though she hadn't truly expected them to—but they had had plenty of rare books containing spells she had never even heard of! One of them had even claimed to have secret Dalish magic stored within its pages!

She had set that book aside for now, instead preferring to focus her time on one that taught spells she thought might be useful in the coming days. It contained spells for something called a battlemage, though she had never heard the word before. Once she had started reading the spells, however, she figured out _why_ she had never heard of it. Mistress Brinna hadn't been interested in anything other than hexes and blood magic, and the templars had barely tolerated the thought that a mage might learn _any_ sort of attack, let alone a set of spells solely designed for a mage that frequently battled.

Her finger lightly traced along the passage that contained an explanation for a spell called Draining Aura. It shouldn't be too difficult for her to master and, from the looks of it, she might even be able to use it in combination with her blood magic.

To use her blood spells she needed to draw on the blood—often called life energy—of either herself or her target. But with that came certain dangers.

Only by using an outside source, most often another person's blood, could she heal herself. Potions or standard healing spells were virtually useless when she delved into blood magic. Draining Aura, however, seemed to pull on an enemy's aura, converting it to a type of healing spell that was unique, although it would drain her own energy. But, since blood magic kept her from using her energy to cast spells, it shouldn't matter. If Draining Aura worked as she was starting to think, this spell would be very useful.

"So hard at work, even at camp! Truly, you are an inspiration to us all!"

Lilyth looked up from her book, annoyed at being interrupted, to see the assassin standing in front of her with a wide smile on his face. She hadn't seen him since they had first come back to camp and he had been introduced to the rest of their companions. "Ah, so there you are. I had wondered if you had slipped off, by some chance." She looked back down at her book. "But, I see you are still here. And what's more, you have not yet tried to kill any of us."

She heard the tremble of his laughter as he sat down, uninvited, next to her. "I thought it best to disappear while your friend—Alistair, I believe—finished his tirade about dangerous assassins."

"He is no friend of mine," she instantly retorted.

"Ah, I thought that might be the case, though I was not certain. Still, he is your fellow Warden, yes?"

"I assure you, that is the only thing we have in common."

Zevran leaned forward, looking around the camp as if to take everything in. "Yes, I had noticed that there does seem to be a bit of... how do you say... _tension_, in the air. I wonder at the cause of it."

Lilyth didn't bother to look at him, instead frowning at her book as she tried to reread the same sentence for the third time. He was beginning to distract her. "Perhaps, you should ask someone else? I am sure that Alistair, at least, would be eager to tell you all about the problems between us."

She felt, rather than saw, Zevran smile. "Ah, but he is not as pleasing on the eyes as you are, my lovely Warden."

Lilyth finally lifted her head to look at him, and saw the smile he wore on his face. She recognized it; it was the same smile that most of Mistress Brinna's male pets got when they had been sent to seduce someone. "As much as I do enjoy being flattered, I have had both high and low-bred puppies slavering after me before. Charm, when it is used so obviously, will get you nowhere."

The assassin pretended to be hurt by her comment. "Such harsh words! It is not flattery to speak the simple truth."

"Well, if all you are planning to do is admire me, could you not do so from afar?" She waved a hand towards the other side of the camp. "I should like to finish this chapter before the evening meal."

Zevran crossed his ankle over his opposite leg and wound his hands around his knee. "There was, actually, a reason that I wished to speak with you."

"Oh? Then spit it out and be on your way."

He shook his head, as if bemused about something. "You act as though you do not wish for my presence, yet it was you who asked Aedan to spare my life. I must admit, I find myself at a loss as to why you would do such a thing."

Lilyth briefly closed her eyes, wishing with all her might that he would just take the not so subtle hint and leave her alone. She had been hoping to avoid this question since Aedan had first agreed to spare his life; she had even halfway hoped that Zevran would have run off when he had had the chance. Then she wouldn't have had to deal with this.

"Do you not see my companions?" she asked, a bit haughtily. "I grew weary at seeing filthy humans everywhere I turned. I had thought a handsome elf would be a welcome change of pace." She hoped that he would take her words at face value or, at the very least, be distracted enough to change the topic.

But, no such luck. True, the assassin grinned at her words, but it didn't seem to deter him in the slightest. "You know, I _was_ once told that my ridiculously good looks would be my savior one day. It seems the fortune teller was right." The smile faltered slightly. "However, that cannot have been your only reason. You claim to know of the Crows. Why, then, would you allow one in your midst?"

Lilyth narrowed her eyes. "Would you have preferred that I let Aedan kill you?"

"Of course not."

"Then what does it matter?" Really, why couldn't he just leave her alone? Why should he care what her reasons were? He was alive! Was that not enough to be grateful for?

In truth, Lilyth wasn't exactly sure why she had done what she did, though she would _never_ admit it to Zevran. All she knew was that, when he had asked Aedan to end his life swiftly, there had been a look in his eyes that had reminded her of a certain boy that she had known when she was younger, a boy that had belonged to Mistress Brinna.

That boy had gone through horrible experiments in order to free his family from slavery. He had been told that the experiments might end in his death, and the look on his face had been so similar to the look Zevran had had. Lilyth certainly didn't understand the mentality—only a fool willingly accepted death—but before she had had any time to think about it, she had already suggested that Aedan change his mind.

She might not have an answer or reason for her actions, but that did not mean that she would waste her time dwelling on it. In an effort to change the topic, Lilyth looked down at the book in her hands and then slid Zevran a sly smile. "You swore to serve me, did you not?"

The assassin looked at her quizzically for a moment, but he obviously thought she meant something sexual, for a slow smile broke out on his face. "I am at your service, my lady. Truly, I _was_ expecting this. I am, after all, the greatest lover in Antiva, and I should be glad of the chance to provide my services to such a beautiful woman."

Lilyth's lip curled up into a sneer of disdain. "I did not spare your life for you to be my whore," she snapped. Zevran seemed somewhat taken back by her words. But, really, she was not like the Mistress; she would never force someone to earn their place by spending their time on their backs.

She sucked in a deep breath. Better to not think about her time with the Mistress. Instead, to regain her composure, she sniffed arrogantly. "For your information, assassin, I do have standards."

He laughed at her words. "Ah, I see. You are a trophy that must be earned, yes?"

"Yet I doubt you could be the one to earn it," she countered, in control of herself once more. She knew about men like Zevran; she had spent years around them, both at Mistress Brinna's estate, and in the Circle Tower. They were men who thought that they were the greatest gift to women and, though they generally had the skill to back up their words, Lilyth was far too perceptive to allow herself to be seduced. Once one was seduced, they had lost the chance to hold the power.

"That sounds suspiciously like a challenge, my dear."

Lilyth shrugged. "Take it however you wish." She patted the book. "Now, back to my original thought. Since you have sworn to serve me, I have no doubt that you will honor that promise and allow me to practice some of my new spells on you."

Zevran dropped his leg and gaped at her. "You are not serious?"

"Of course I am." She stood up from the log, brushing the dirt off her clothing. "Now then, I need you to stand over there while I practice this Draining Aura spell."

"What sort of spell is it? I have no intention of being set on fire, or frozen solid, or whatever else you might dream up in that wicked head of yours."

"Are you telling me that you are afraid of a little pain?"

Zevran laughed at that and stood up. "Oh, I do not mind a little pain, my lovely Warden, so long as it is followed by pleasure."

"No pleasure here, I am afraid." She frowned at the open book in her hands. "If it is any consolation, I have no intention of harming you. What use would that be to me? Neither Morrigan nor I are healers; if I damaged you too badly you would not be useful during a fight."

"Strangely, I am not consoled by your words."

Lilyth waved away his concerns. "I do not know how this spell will feel, but it should only drain some of your energy. I should think it would hurt only a little." Secure that she had managed to memorize the spell, she tossed the book on the log and faced him with her hands on her hips. "Now, I believe you should attack me."

He looked thoroughly confused by that and she tapped her foot impatiently. "However will I master these spells if I do not practice them while in combat? Now, do as I say and attack me!"

"I am afraid your handsome leader still has my weapons."

Lilyth scoffed. "Do you truly need your weapons to fight? I was under the impression that the Crows were better trained than that."

Her words seemed to have the right effect; Zevran grinned dangerously. "As you wish, my lovely Warden. Just do not complain to me when your spells fail you and you are at my mercy."

oOo

Aedan lay on his back, closing his eyes against the feel of the cool spring breeze on his cheeks. He was lying only a few feet away from the fire, and the scent of Morrigan's stew wafted over to him enticingly, making his stomach rumble with hunger.

"That smells delicious, Morrigan."

" 'Tis one of the few benefits of living with Mother," she remarked casually, never taking her eyes off the pot. "The old woman could not cook a decent meal if her life depended on it. I would have starved had I not learned to cook for myself."

Aedan raised himself on to his elbow and looked around the camp; it had become a habit of his to periodically check to see where his companions were. Fang was sitting over near Alistair and Leliana, who were talking amongst themselves next to Bodahn's cart. Aedan was more grateful for the sister's presence than he would have thought. She was the one who soothed Alistair's constant complaints, and she managed it by doing absolutely nothing other than making sweet comments in reply to his words. Maybe if she spent a bit more time around him she could get him to focus on the Blight, rather than Lilyth's blood magic.

"Ready to concede defeat, assassin?" Aedan heard Lilyth's taunt from the far end of the camp; he looked towards her voice and saw the mage holding a hand up as if ready to snap her fingers. Not far from her, the assassin stood rooted to the spot in the middle of a glowing white pattern on the ground.

"That was nothing but luck!" Zevran protested with a grin. "If I had access to my weapons and poison, you would already be dead!"

Aedan rolled his eyes. He still wasn't completely positive that allowing the assassin to live was the greatest of ideas, but so far Zevran hadn't tried to make another attempt on their lives. He seemed occupied enough with fighting against Lilyth; at first, Aedan had thought that Zevran was trying another assassination attempt, but he had soon discovered that they were merely sparring. From where Aedan sat, it looked as though Zevran was losing that fight, but the assassin didn't seem daunted in the least. Perhaps he really _was_ being honest when he had sworn his loyalty to Lilyth.

Of course, that didn't mean that Aedan would give his weapons back just yet.

Although, Aedan wouldn't deny that it was his own anger at the knowledge that Howe had hired the assassin that had made him want to kill Zevran. He knew he was sensitive to anything that dealt with Howe. Even now, it was hard for him to commit to the Blight with Howe's continuing existence hanging over his head. The only thing that kept him from storming Denerim was the promise he had made Father—that he would join and honor the Grey Wardens.

Besides, he constantly tried to remind himself, one didn't win a fight by blindly rushing in. Father had ensured that both Aedan and Fergus had been knowledgeable on the subject of warfare. Aedan knew that it was better to wait until he had a secure plan of attack. He had a better chance of killing Howe if he handled the situation carefully.

Morrigan tossed some sort of crushed leaf into the stew and mixed it in. "Now that we have a proper map, how long should it take to reach Redcliffe?"

"I'd say another two or three days, depending on our pace." The witch nodded absentmindedly, but Aedan thought she looked a bit relieved. He couldn't help but smile. "Why? Are you eager to get there? Considering Lothering, I would have thought you'd hate being in a village, surrounded by people."

Morrigan sneered down into the soup, and Aedan was forced to admit that Alistair had a point when he compared the witch with Lilyth. Both women had very practiced arrogant looks; it was almost impressive.

"I am _not_ thrilled at the idea of entering a village that no doubt houses as many fools as Lothering, but I _am_ eager for the chance to rid myself of the two Chantry idiots, if only for a moment."

"You know, _I _believe in the Maker and Andraste, too," he said casually, curious as to what her response would be.

She inclined her dark head gracefully, acknowledging the point. "Perhaps, but you have not yet felt the need to convert me or Lilyth to the 'truth'." She sprinkled a type of powder into the pot. "And, you are not guided by foolish, superstitious fantasies like the others."

Aedan sat up. "What do you mean?"

The witch lifted her head and looked towards the other side of the camp; Aedan followed the direction of her gaze to where Alistair and Leliana were sitting. "You have accepted Lilyth's blood magic, despite what your Chantry teaches," Morrigan said. "Unlike the failed templar, who barks like a frightened puppy because he does not know his own mind, it seems you make sensible decisions."

"Well, I do agree with some of the Chantry's teachings. I don't think it's right that a mage might seek out a demon and make a deal. If Lilyth was an abomination, or if she threatened us in any way, I wouldn't hesitate to let Alistair shove a sword of mercy right through her heart. But, the Chantry does seem quick to condemn. If Lilyth's blood magic helps us and she's not a threat, I don't see what harm she brings."

"Was it that mentality that caused you to allow an assassin to join us?" the witch asked curiously.

"Actually, _I _had planned to kill him, but Lilyth was the one who suggested that I let him join us." He shook his head, still somewhat confused by her actions. "I'm not sure why—maybe she just wanted another elf around—but she was right in that he could be useful. That is, if he keeps his word and doesn't try to kill us again."

The corners of Morrigan's lips twitched. "A sensible decision."

"Careful, Morrigan. That sounded suspiciously like a compliment. A few more of those and I might actually start thinking you're a nice person."

The witch scoffed and turned back to her stew, ignoring him completely. Aedan chuckled to himself and resumed staring up at the darkening sky.

Soon enough, they'd be in Redcliffe. He might not be the biggest fan of Arl Eamon, but if they could convince him to stand against Loghain, Aedan would have a far better chance of bringing Howe to justice.

He grinned up at the sky, a dark smile that made his eyes glint dangerously. He couldn't wait for the moment when he killed Howe. He'd do it slowly; he wanted to watch the light go out of the coward's eyes. He wanted Howe to look at him, and know the terror that it was Bryce Cousland's son who would bring vengeance to the people of Highever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** I seem to do this almost every chapter, but I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I'm sure many of you thought I had abandoned this story, but I promise I haven't. I got really stuck on how to go about that first section with Zevran (I wanted him to attack them early, b/c he needs to be there during the majority of the story) and then life decided to smack me over the head and I lost my muse for Lilyth. In the end, I had to sit myself down and force myself to write this.  
><em>

_A giant thank you goes out to Ventisquear. The way she portrays Zevran in her fabulous story, Failed to Fail, was a *huge* inspiration to me. I don't know anyone else who has managed to get in his head so well. If you haven't checked out her story, I really encourage you to do so. Not only is Zevran ridiculously awesome, but her main character, Airam Surana, is absolutely adorable!  
><em>

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are lurking. Again, I'm sorry I took so long to update, and I'm especially grateful to those of you who waited patiently._


	9. Chapter 9

**IX. Blood like Ice**

Considering that Redcliffe Village was reputed to be one of the largest villages in Ferelden—and its Arl one of the most important voices in the Landsmeet—Lilyth had expected to see a town roughly the size of Denerim or, at the very least, Amaranthine. A village with stone buildings and a good road. She had expected—_hoped_, even—to find a good sized inn where she could rest her weary feet, take a hot, scented bath, and perhaps hire a tailor to mend the tears in her leggings.

What she saw was something quite different.

"I would have thought that Redcliffe was much larger," Morrigan muttered disdainfully, echoing Lilyth's thoughts. Their group stood at the top of a large hill near the entrance, looking down at the village below while they rested their feet for a few minutes before they started their search for someone to take them to the Arl. The witch's eyes traveled over the group of pitiful homes clustered together and scoffed. "Ah, but I see that they have spared no expense on their chantry, at least."

Lilyth followed the direction of her gaze to see a large building, the only building made of stone, with giant statues of Andraste flanking the stairs that led inside. "So it seems. Their homes might be made of wood, but when the cold seeps in and they grow sick, at least they might die at the stone feet of their idol." She let out an impatient tut. "What fools these Andrastrians are."

"We _can _all hear you, you know," Alistair snapped.

At once, Lilyth was all smiles and honeyed tones. "Oh! My apologies, Your Highness! Morrigan and I forgot our places as silent followers; I implore you to forgive us!" Alistair's face darkened with anger; he looked as if he wished to say something, but instead pressed his lips together tightly and turned away towards Leliana, who put a hand on his arm and gave a comforting smile, as if to say, "Don't let them trouble you."

Morrigan and Lilyth exchanged a secret, mischievous grin, always glad for the opportunity to anger the failed templar. Alistair's persistent bad mood was a constant source of amusement to the two women; more so because for once the boy Warden's anger wasn't directed at them, but at Aedan. So, naturally, Lilyth and Morrigan did all they could to encourage his vexation.

Only yesterday, when Leliana had informed them that they should reach Redcliffe Village by the next morning, Alistair, as jumpy as a rabbit with a fox on its tail, had decided to inform them of the "inconsequential" fact that he was the son of King Maric. Technically, what with King Cailan dead, that made Alistair the heir to the Ferelden throne.

Personally, Lilyth had been quite impressed, and that didn't happen very often. But, her comments that Alistair would look far more attractive with a crown on his head only seemed to inflame his anger; so, of course, she took care to mention it whenever possible.

The very idea of taking the throne seemed to set him off, and Lilyth was incapable of understanding. As King of Ferelden, he would hold ultimate power over the country! His every wish would be granted, his every desire sated. Women would flock to him in the hundreds; he would have the very best of everything. He would wear glittering jewels, expensive cloth of gold, luxurious silks, and only the best and softest fur. He would bathe in scented waters, and eat delicacies from all over Thedas. His word would be law; he could command anything he wanted. Who _wouldn't _wish for that?

Aedan, however, held a far different opinion than Lilyth. Oh, he did believe that Alistair had a duty to take the throne—a thought that was causing Alistair's current ill humor—but he clearly didn't have the vision that Lilyth did. He only believed that it was right and proper that Ferelden have an heir of Theirin blood. Apparently, it had something to do with Calenhad, the first king of Ferelden, who—according to Aedan—had united the Clayne tribes into a single nation, which became Ferelden.

Lilyth didn't pretend to know anything about history; Mistress Brinna hadn't considered that particularly important to her education, but she _did _know enough to wonder why it was important to have a Theirin king. So Calenhad had united Ferelden, what did that matter? Was it believed that his courage and intelligence was passed on through his descendants? Clearly not, for both Cailan and Alistair appeared to Lilyth as dim-witted children without a serious thought in their sun-addled brains.

"Come on," Aedan said suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. "We've rested long enough; we need to speak with Arl Eamon."

"_After _we bathe and eat a good meal," Lilyth said quickly, with an edge to her tone. She was absolutely starving. Alistair claimed that it was nothing more than a side effect of being a Warden, but she was more inclined to believe that it was due to the fact that they had eaten nothing but thin gruel or dried bread these past few weeks. She was longing for fresh baked bread, sweet, ripe fruit, or perhaps even a stuffed chicken.

"Of course, Lilyth," Aedan replied wearily, as if tired of hearing her complaints. It was true that Lilyth had been desperate for a good meal and a hot bath for days, and that she had made no secret of her annoyance but, really, what did anyone expect? The last few times she'd been able to wash had been in a frigid stream; she hadn't been able to handle it for very long, and was showing the effects of not bathing. Dried mud clung to clumps of her hair, her arms and face were streaked with spots of dried blood from her magic; she felt like dirt was in every single pore on her body, and _wasn't_ happy about it.

But, when they followed the main path down to the village, with Lilyth growing more and more eager each step of the way, they were soon stopped by a young man frantically running in the opposite direction.

When he saw them, he immediately halted and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. "Oh! Praise the Maker! I knew... someone would come for us! I was... running to... find someone, and... you came!"

Aedan crossed his arms, regarding the man with a look that suggested the villager might be a bit on the dim-witted side. "What are you talking about? We're here to speak with Arl Eamon, nothing more."

The man jerked himself up, growing more and more anxious. "Arl Eamon? Then... you haven't heard?" He covered his face with his hands as if to block out whatever had frightened him. "Oh, Maker, has nobody heard?"

"Stop screaming like a lunatic," Lilyth suddenly snapped, what little patience she had gone with this man's rambling, "and either tell us what you mean or get out of our way."

Beside her, Zevran chuckled. "Have I never mentioned how delightful your charm is to watch? You really do have a way with others." Lilyth sniffed and decided to ignore him.

The man was wringing his hands together, his knuckles turning white. "Arl Eamon is... he could be dead for all we know! No one's been able to get to the castle for days!"

Aedan seemed to grow concerned by that piece of news. "Why not? What's been happening?"

"Monsters!" the man squeaked. "Every night for the past three nights they've been coming out from the castle like some sort of plague and attacking us til dawn! Most of the villagers are already dead; we won't be able to survive another night if this keeps going!"

"Well, this seems just typical," Zevran muttered.

Morrigan nodded at the assassin. "And why not? A Blight would seem to be the perfect time to start killing one another, would it not?" Her voice, although sweet, was heavy with sarcasm.

Inwardly, Lilyth agreed with the witch. This was going to be a pointless waste of their time; she'd never get a bath and a hot meal with monsters prowling the village. She looked towards Aedan. "So, we are going to leave then, correct?"

"What?" Leliana gasped, her face pale with worry. "How could you suggest such a thing? Surely we cannot abandon this poor village while they are under attack?"

Lilyth raised her chin and clicked her tongue impatiently at the sister's stupidity. "Because we have a Blight to deal with, in case you had forgotten, and I do not see how helping this village will be to our gain. If anything, we would stand to lose more than we already have."

"Perhaps," Aedan said thoughtfully.

It seemed as though he was honestly weighing out his options, so Lilyth decided to press him a bit further. "If this village is under attack, then they cannot aid us against the Blight; if we help them defeat these monsters, they will need to tend to their people and _still_ will not be able to aid us. Besides, you said we only need Arl Eamon to help us fight Loghain but—and correct me if I am wrong—the Blight stands to destroy far more than this petty civil war we have heard about."

She crossed her arms. "If we stay here, we will end up fighting these monsters and, in so doing, will be risking our lives. What happens if we save the village but die in the attempt? The Blight will destroy the country, which is something you claim to wish to stop."

Morrigan nodded. "I agree. I say we worry about the greater threat and leave these others to fend for themselves."

At once, Alistair, Leliana, and the man from the village all launched into a flurry of protesting and shouting.

"No! We can't just leave them here to die!"

"It would be wrong to even _consider _abandoning them!"

"Please, you must help us!"

Aedan held up his hand to quiet them all down, and was silent for a moment before sighing. "We do still need Arl Eamon to help us against Loghain; this civil war might be petty, but it is making our job that much more difficult. We'll never get the Landsmeet to accept the threat of the Blight if they're focused on Loghain." He turned to the man from the village. "You said that no one has been able to get to the castle?"

"No. With these monsters attacking us every night, passage to the castle has been blocked off, and we haven't heard anything from the Arl or his family! Bann Teagan is the only person holding us together."

"Bann Teagan?" Alistair asked in surprise. "He's here?"

The villager nodded. "He's been helping us to organize our defense. I could take you to him if you like."

Aedan seemed pleased at this idea. "Yes, take us to him. I'd like to talk to him before I decide what we should do."

Lilyth scowled at him. "You are actually considering this?"

The nobleman waved off her sharp words. "I know Bann Teagan; he's a good man. Perhaps he can explain a bit more about this situation."

oOo

Bann Teagan might be a good man—though Lilyth was a little confused about what made someone a "good" man—but it seemed as though he was not what one would call a _true _man. A true man was a fighter, a man who could twist any situation, even a battle, to his own benefit. A man who was not afraid of injury, a man who would never hide when he was threatened. A true man had courage. Sadly, Lilyth had met very few true men in her lifetime, and Teagan seemed no different than the rest of them.

This Bann of Rainesfere—as he was quick to introduce himself—had locked himself away in the chantry with the women and children; hiding inside the sturdy building while, outside, the villagers were training and gathering supplies, desperately trying to find a way to survive. Lilyth certainly felt no sadness or pity for the villagers; in her opinion, if one was weak enough to die, then that was simply the way of the world. But, she could not admire Teagan's plan to hide away while the others fought. True, she well understood the desire to live but, if all Teagan wanted to do was survive, then why was he still in Redcliffe? Why didn't he just leave?

Obviously, he wished to aid the villagers only if it meant he could stay safe. Most likely, he thought he was doing the right thing by staying in Redcliffe and offering advice, but his help would only come if he himself was at minimal risk. It was that hypocrisy that disgusted Lilyth. No doubt there were certain people, Alistair and Leliana among them, who believed that she was a coward, or a horrible woman for wishing to leave the village, but at least she had never hidden her desire to survive. She would never pretend to have sympathy when she had none.

He and Aedan seemed to be on good terms, at least, and Teagan apparently knew Alistair from his childhood. From what Lilyth could gather, Aedan knew him from the Landsmeet, although it appeared as though Teagan was far more pleased to see Aedan than Aedan was to see him. If anything, Aedan, although pleasant, seemed quite guarded. Alistair, on the other hand, seemed positively elated to see Teagan again.

"So, if these monsters have already slaughtered half the village, why are you staying holed up in the chantry?" Aedan asked a bit sharply. Lilyth got the impression that he was as disdainful of Teagan's actions as she was.

The Bann frowned at the tone. "It is the best place for me to organize and send out orders." He waved to the table behind him, covered with papers, though Lilyth couldn't see what was written on them. "But, I am also in a position where the villagers can find me easily."

Aedan appeared to be growing more and more impatient. "Haven't you searched for Arl Eamon? We need to speak with him; we need his help against Loghain."

Teagan crossed his arms with a scowl. "I cannot search out my brother when the villagers need my help so badly." He settled a bit and sighed. "But, I understand why you need him; I was there when Teyrn Loghain declared himself regent, explaining away his actions with a host of wild tales. Only a fool would believe that he only withdrew to save his troops, or that King Cailan had run mad with the desire to adventure."

For the first time since coming to Redcliffe, the sharp expression Aedan wore dissolved into curiosity. "Then, you acknowledge that the Grey Wardens are innocent?"

"Well, if your order _did _lead King Cailan to his death, I cannot see the point you were trying to make, given that almost all of the Grey Wardens died alongside him."

Aedan nodded thoughtfully, running a hand over Fang's fuzzy head. The mabari wagged its nub tail at the attention. "It would help if we could speak with Arl Eamon, or at least find out if he is alive."

"I understand," Teagan said solemnly. "But, it is true that no one can get to the castle; for all we know, the monsters might have taken my brother already. I cannot think of any other explanation for, if he was alive and well, he would have sent aid." He looked around at all of them. "I know that you have pressing concerns of your own, but I must beg you for your help. These villagers will not survive another night if we continue on in this way."

Alistair nodded firmly, his face full of concern and determination. "The Grey Wardens don't stand much of a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon's support. And, if we help the villagers, maybe we can find a way into the castle?"

Lilyth rolled her eyes; she knew Alistair was just looking for any excuse to save these hapless people. He seemed to think it was his mission in life to be the white knight that rode in and saved everyone. "You heard Teagan; for all we know, Eamon is dead already." She looked at Aedan. "What happens if we spend precious time fighting these monsters, only to discover that he is dead and all of our time was wasted?"

"You will still have helped to save these people," Teagan said pointedly, as if that was something to consider.

Lilyth raised an eyebrow. "From what I understand, the Blight stands to destroy _every _village in Ferelden, rather than just one."

Morrigan smoothed down the fur of her skirt with a derisive expression that matched Lilyth's. "Yes, one would think we already have better things to do. I say we leave and gather allies from those treaties Mother gave us. Let us not waste time here, when we could be working towards the destruction of the Archdemon."

"Surely we cannot leave these poor souls in their time of trouble?" Leliana questioned. "Perhaps the Maker has brought us here to help them."

The witch turned to her with scorn etched on her face. "Oh? And it had nothing to do with the failed templar dragging us here, never ceasing his lecture of how badly we need Eamon's help?"

"Please," Teagan said quietly, looking at Aedan. "We cannot do this on our own. These villagers will die if we do not have outside help. They are farmers; they don't know how to fight. We need seasoned warriors to help us."

Aedan held his eyes for a moment, and then ran a hand through his sandy hair and let out a sigh. Lilyth could have cursed; he was giving in. "Very well; we'll help you until we can find a way to the castle and seek out the Arl." He rubbed his chin, where a light beard was beginning to grow in since he hadn't been able to shave. "But we must know what we're facing, and we have to prepare. We were told they attack at night?"

Teagan's relief was almost palpable, but all he did was smile gratefully. "Thank you. Yes, these monsters begin attacking at dusk and continue until morning comes and the sun rises."

Aedan took in this information and turned to his companions, ignoring the glares he had earned from Lilyth and Morrigan. "All right, then we have most of the day to prepare. Leliana, Alistair, I want you two to go outside and help the villagers with training. From what I saw, they don't know how to _hold _a sword properly, let alone use it. Go see what you can do."

The two Chantry idiots nodded and immediately bustled out of the building, both of them wearing relieved smiles. "Morrigan," Aedan continued, "go and gather as many bandages and healing potions as you can."

The witch raised a sulky eyebrow. "Why must _I _do such a thing?"

"You and Lilyth are our mages, but neither of you can heal," Aedan replied practically. "We need to prepare in the event that something goes wrong."

Morrigan pursed her lips in annoyance, but apparently decided against arguing, since all she did was let out a weary sigh. "Very well. But when the battle comes, I will not stay back and heal these fools. I will gather what you need, but I refuse to take care of them."

Aedan nodded as if he wasn't surprised, and the witch stalked off towards the Chantry mother, who was saying a prayer over some of the pitiful villagers. They all heard Morrigan's irritable demands for bandages and potions, and the mother's shocked reply.

Aedan shook his head before turning to Lilyth and Zevran. "Lilyth, you and Zevran will gather whatever the villagers need to help them in the battle." He turned to Teagan. "Is there someone in charge they can speak with?"

"They could speak to either Murdock, who is organizing the villagers, or to Ser Perth, a member of Arl Eamon's personal knights."

Aedan turned back to the two elves. "You heard him; go talk to those two and see if the villagers or soldiers need anything. If so, get it for them."

Lilyth crossed her arms, scowling irritably. "So, I am an errand girl now?" She jabbed a finger at Zevran. "And why must I take the assassin with me?"

Zevran chuckled. "Keep up these charming comments, my dear, and I might get the strange idea that you do not wish for my company."

Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's going with you because he's your responsibility. You're the one who begged me to spare his life, so you can be the one to watch him. And, he's going with you because he has his weapons back and can help you if something happens, so that you're not forced to use your... magic."

"I am not his keeper!" Lilyth flared up.

"Oh, I don't mind," Zevran said cheerfully. "I can think of worse things in life than having a beautiful woman keep her eye on me."

"Just, go see what the villagers need," Aedan said with a sigh. He saw Lilyth's scowl deepen and cleverly added, "Lilyth, you _did _promise to help us until we reached Denerim, didn't you?"

"If I had known it would involve running around the country rescuing every man, woman, and child we met, I would have reconsidered."

"Oh, well," he replied easily, completely undisturbed by her anger. "If things were different, they wouldn't be the same. No use complaining about it now."

Knowing that she was backed into a corner, Lilyth let out a tut of anger so that everyone should know that she was displeased and twisted on her heel, storming out of the chantry.

oOo

Her bad mood persisted throughout the entire ordeal Aedan had set before her. As if saving these pathetic fools wasn't bad enough, it seemed that half of them were actually opposed to the help she brought!

First, it had been Murdock, that stupid village leader, who had been skeptical of the Grey Wardens' help, even going so far as to comment about dangerous mages, and then wondering if females really _were _made into Wardens. If Zevran hadn't subtly threatened Murdock into telling them what help he needed, Lilyth would have set him on fire just to get enjoyment from watching his flesh melt off his bones.

Next, it had been that drunken blacksmith, a waste of human space if ever there was one. He had flat out refused to help repair armor and weapons, claiming that he wished they would all die, since life was so pointless without knowing if his daughter was safe. Lilyth hadn't even bothered to deal with that fool; he would be dead from drink soon enough. He had tried to make Lilyth promise to go find his daughter, but her only response was to kick him in his knees—much to Zevran's amusement—and leave.

Then—as if the idiots she had already dealt with weren't bad enough—she had to speak with a maddening dwarf who had refused to help the village, unless Lilyth paid him. She had informed him that if _she _was being forced to help these pathetic humans for no money, then surely he could do so as well, but he had remained stubborn. In the end, Lilyth had to threaten to set his house on fire. _That _had gotten him out with the rest of the villagers.

Needless to say, she was not having a very good day. She couldn't understand why Aedan had decided to try and help the village. What did it matter if the whole lot of them died? That was the way of the world; if someone wasn't strong enough to protect themselves, they didn't deserve to live. It was a cruel, harsh world; a world that didn't make allowances for weaklings.

Lilyth stormed up the hill towards the windmill, where a small group of men in shining armor stood clustered together. Obviously, they were Eamon's knights. Zevran trailed behind her, a silent shadow. After a few comments that had earned no response from her, he seemed to have realized that she didn't wish to talk.

She approached the knights, hands on her hips, and scanned them with an irritated look. "Which of you is Ser Perth?"

"I am he," a man said, stepping out from the group. Lilyth looked him over with a critical eye; she supposed he would have been considered a handsome man, but she was too angry to really pay _that _much attention. He smiled politely. "May I help you with something?"

"I am Lilyth, one of the Grey Wardens." It took a lot not to scowl at introducing herself as a Warden. She gestured to Zevran. "This is Zevran, a Crow. Our Commander is determined to aid your village against my better advice, and has sent us to see if there is anything you need."

Ser Perth raised an eyebrow at her irritable tone, but his voice remained as polite as ever. "Ah, yes. I had been told that the Grey Wardens were here to aid us. I am glad to know that your honorable order will fight beside us." He sketched her an informal bow. "I apologize; I do not know how to address an elven lady of your rank. I do not wish to offend."

Lilyth twisted the tail of her black hair around her finger, warming to this man who spoke so politely. At least _someone _in this village knew how to treat a woman like her. Her hair might be twisted into a careless plait, she might have dried blood on her arms, and tears in her clothing, but she would bet any amount of money that she was still the most attractive woman in the village. "You may call me Lilyth," she said sweetly, glancing up at him through lowered eyelashes.

The knight smiled in return. "So, Lilyth, how, exactly, may I serve you?"

"Our Commander has sent us to ask if there is anything you need before the battle this evening."

The smile faded from Perth's face; he grew solemn and turned to his knights thoughtfully. "We have sufficient weapons and armor; I believe we are as prepared as it is possible to be." He turned back and lowered his voice. "But, my men fear the coming battle. They know that we will most likely die, and they are afraid."

"They are soldiers," Zevran pointed out. "Surely they are aware that every battle is a risk?"

"They are," the knight admitted. "But, it is what we face. These monsters... some say they are the walking dead, horrible creatures brought back to life from dark magic." He hesitated. "Some of my men feel that we need the Maker's protection to deal with such evil."

Lilyth was unable to contain her laugh, her previous liking for this man quite vanishing with his words. "Your Maker will not help you with this battle. It will be decided on skill alone."

Perth's eyes widened; he stared at her in shock. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Lilyth waved a hand dismissively. "If your Maker is truly able to help you, why does he not do so? Why has he already let half of the villagers die? Why not stop this nonsense before it even begins?"

"Hmm, perhaps now might not be the best time for us to debate such things," Zevran interrupted. "You say your knights have all they need for the battle?"

Perth nodded, never taking his eyes off Lilyth. He looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "Yes; we are as prepared as ever."

"Good," Lilyth said haughtily. "Then we will leave you be." Without bothering to wait for a response, she turned away and walked towards the inn set up on another hill that overlooked the chantry.

Zevran quickly caught up with her. "Where to now, my lovely Warden?"

"Now, we go to the inn so that I may have a bath and a hot meal. We have done as Murdock asked, and that fool knight needs nothing from us, so our task is done." Her eyes narrowed. "At the very least, I can rest for a moment before I am forced to defend a bunch of idiots who cannot seem to defend themselves."

Zevran chuckled. "I find your lack of compassion for others amusing, my dear. You truly believe that no one deserves help?"

"Why should I not?" Lilyth shot back, driven by her irritation to be honest. "No one came rushing to _my_ aid; I survived on skill alone. You are a Crow, Zevran, and I know a bit about how they train their assassins. Surely you agree that those who cannot defend themselves are better left to die so that the strong can survive?"

"I suppose so," he said slowly. "In the Crows, if you cannot handle your training or the rigorous life, you are put to work as a servant or sold; that is, if your weakness doesn't get you killed." He watched her for a few moments as they picked their way up the hill. "May I ask, did you adopt such a view in the Circle Tower?"

A harsh laugh escaped her. "Oh, no. It was Mistress Brinna who taught me everything, from blood magic, to the way of the world. She taught me everything I know, and I cannot say how much I owe her for all of her lessons." She kept her words sweet, but her tone was heavily laced with malice.

Zevran seemed to think about this, but he didn't get another chance to say something before they reached the inn and Lilyth threw open the door.

The inn was certainly not the most elaborate place Lilyth had ever seen, but at least it was clean, and the aroma of food made Lilyth's mouth water. A few of the villagers were clustered in the corner, hovering over their drinks, and the place was well lit.

A young woman with a pretty face and horrid red hair approached Lilyth and Zevran as they looked around. "More doomed souls come to drown their sorrows, eh?" She had a pleasant voice, and a cheerful demeanor. "My name's Bella. We have comfortable rooms available, and some good ale from the breweries in Denerim. What can I do for you?"

"We are Grey Wardens," Lilyth said warmly, hoping that she could manage to wheedle a free room for herself. "We are here to aid your village against the monsters that have been attacking, but we should like to rest and eat and save up our strength before the battle."

Bella's smile widened and her eyes lit up. "Ah! That is wonderful to hear! Perhaps, with Grey Wardens here to aid us, we'll have a chance!"

Lilyth dropped her sweet smile and adopted a pitiful look. "I should _like_ to pay for what we need," she said sorrowfully. "Unfortunately, I do not know if we have enough money to provide for all of our companions. We have been living very meanly since Ostagar."

At once, Bella's face was full of sympathy. "It's difficult times for all of us." She stole a glance at the bar, where an extremely fat man with a rather grumpy expression was cleaning some glasses. "I would like to give you rooms free of charge, but I'm afraid Lloyd, the owner, is a bit stingy when it comes to money, and I know he won't let me let you have anything for free. But, he'd never listen to me; maybe you can talk to him?"

Lilyth studied the man, and thought that he shouldn't be too difficult to persuade, whether it be through charm or intimidation. But, before she had a chance to agree, Zevran suddenly piped up. "Excuse me, Bella, but could you tell me about that elf in the corner?"

Lilyth followed the direction of his gaze and saw a young man sitting alone at a table set in the corner of the room. At once, she saw why Zevran had asked about him; the man was slouched over his drink with his eyes darting around suspiciously, as if paranoid of someone sneaking up on him.

"Him?" Bella asked. "Says his name's Berwick. He's a bit of a strange sort, if you ask me. He bought a room, says he wants to stay for a few nights and that he's waiting for his brother, but _I _think he's lying."

"Oh?" Zevran turned a charming smile to the woman. "Why do you think so?"

"He's been here for three days and sits by himself, never talking to anyone, never saying anything at all. He just orders a drink and sits in the corner all day." The group of men seated by the bar began waving at her; Bella nodded to them. "Excuse me, I have to refill their drinks. Talk to Lloyd about your rooms and let me know what he says."

As she walked off towards the men, Lilyth turned to raise an eyebrow at Zevran. "Why do you care about the elf? What is he to you?"

The assassin laughed at her. "Come now, my lovely Warden, you are smarter than this. He arrived three days ago, the same time that villager said that the monsters began attacking. He claims to be waiting for his brother, but even Bella can tell that he is lying. Surely even you can see that he most likely knows something about these creatures?" His smile widened. "Or, shall you just kick him in the knees and storm off?"

Lilyth pursed her lips and turned her head, annoyed. Zevran seemed to find her vexation amusing. "Now, all I need is an opportunity to rifle through his pockets undetected," he continued, seemingly to himself. "Perhaps he has something incriminating on him. But, the way he is seated will make that difficult; no doubt he will notice me."

"Very well," she said reluctantly. "You need not hint; I shall distract him for you." She held up a finger. "But, if I do not get a bath and a hot meal soon, I swear I will solve this monster problem on my own and set the entire village on fire."

"Will you use blood magic on him?" Zevran asked quietly.

Lilyth clicked her tongue impatiently. "And announce myself as a blood mage to the entire village? The Chantry _is _here, remember."

She stalked off towards the elf in the corner, who looked up from his mug of ale as she approached. Lilyth watched his eyes take in the sight of her; the dried blood on her arms and cheeks, the tears in her leggings, and the messy plait which fell over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to his mug. "Sorry, but I'm not looking for company."

Lilyth fought the urge to grit her teeth. If she had had access to hot water, scented soap, and fine skin cream, this task would be so much easier. But, no matter. She had seen herself in the reflection of some of the windows around the village, and knew that the torn clothing and dried blood, coupled with her messy hair, gave her a wild, exotic look. She could easily play that up.

"You are Berwick, yes?" She planted her palms on the table and leaned forward, parting her lips into a sly grin. The table was set against a wall in the corner of the room; with Lilyth blocking the only way for him to get out, he would start to feel trapped. That, with the mixture of her savage, provocative appearance and her inviting, mischievous smile should be enough to muddle him into a combination of fascination, fear, and confusion.

It seemed to work. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at her again as if to judge whether or not she was real. "You—how did you know my name?"

"Oh, I asked Bella who the handsome elf in the corner was." Lilyth took care to lower her voice so that he had to lean forward. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dark shadow moving around behind the bench.

The suspicious elf swallowed nervously. "Oh, um, well... uh, yes, I'm Berwick. Is there... is there something I can do for you?"

Lilyth let her smile widen and said nothing. In her experience, men and women could interpret a thousand different things from a single smile. In this instance, she knew that Berwick would start to feel even more uncomfortable at her close proximity. But, at the same time, she knew that he would never react to his uneasiness. She was, after all, a slim and delicate woman. Hardly a threat, even with her appearance. At most, he would think she was trying to seduce him.

"Um, would you like to sit?" he mumbled. She could tell from his tone that he was just grasping for something to say to fill the silence, that part of him was hoping she would refuse the invitation.

Luckily, she didn't have to keep up the charade any longer for, at that moment, Zevran appeared behind the bench; he rested his arms on the back of the bench and leaned forward, holding what looked like a letter. Berwick let out a squeak of surprise and jumped. "Oh, someone has been naughty," the assassin chuckled, waving the letter lazily.

"Let me see that." Lilyth perched on the table and set her feet on the bench next to Berwick, effectively cutting off any thought he might have had for escape. " 'Berwick,' " she read aloud, " 'We need your eyes and ears in Redcliffe. Stay in the village, keep your head down, and watch the castle. Report any changes, and you'll be well paid.' Oho! Someone has _indeed _been naughty!"

"How did you get that?" Berwick demanded, although Lilyth noticed that his voice was shaking.

She reached forward and traced a nail down the line of his jaw, grinning as she watched the anxiety rise in his eyes. "So, tell us, Berwick, what are these changes you are watching for? Might they be connected to the monsters that are attacking the village?"

The elf pressed himself back against the wall, as if to put as much distance as possible between himself, and Lilyth and Zevran. "No! I don't know anything about the monsters! I was just told to watch Redcliffe Castle and report anything I might see." Trapped as he was, his fear quickly began to turn to anger; his shoulders lifted and a scowl crossed his face. "And I'll have you know that I was approached by a man for Arl Howe, the right hand of Teyrn Loghain, so I haven't done anything wrong!"

"What are you two doing?"

Lilyth turned her attention away from the elf to see Aedan and Morrigan watching them quizzically. Strange, she hadn't even heard them come into the tavern, and mentally cursed herself for not paying attention to her surroundings.

Well, she had other concerns at the moment. "Hello, Aedan." She patted Berwick's cheek in a friendly manner, and smiled when he winced. "This is our friend, Berwick. Zevran found a rather interesting letter in his possession; I should think you might like to take a look." She handed the letter to Aedan.

The nobleman scanned the contents, his face growing dark. "He was sent to spy on Redcliffe?"

Lilyth inclined her head, knowing that her next piece of information would infuriate him. "He claims that a man working for Howe is the one who hired him."

She was right. Aedan immediately crumpled up the paper, glaring at Berwick with a look that would have frightened most men. The elf visibly cowered. "What did this man tell you to do?" Aedan's voice was a deadly calm, almost more dangerous than shouting would have been.

"He just told me to report anything I saw, I swear! But, I haven't been able to report _anything_, because when I arrived the monsters started attacking the village. I've been stuck here with everyone else!"

"Howe, again," Morrigan remarked thoughtfully. "It would seem he has a finger in every pie, would it not?"

"Well, what shall we do with Berwick?" Lilyth asked, changing the topic.

A dark look crossed over Aedan's face. "Zevran."

"Yes?"

"Take this elf outside and kill him."

"No—!" Berwick tried to shout, but was quickly muffled by Zevran slipping a hand over his mouth.

"I can do that. It has been quite some time since I assassinated someone."

Lilyth slipped off the table and watched silently as Zevran got a firm grip on the elf's hands and dragged him out of the tavern. She glanced around the room, curious if anyone had noticed, but the villagers were too busy drinking and muttering about death to pay attention, and Bella and Lloyd were busy with their own tasks. Besides, it seemed Zevran was skilled enough to know how to keep Berwick quiet as he was forcibly shoved from the inn.

When the two men were gone, Morrigan turned to Aedan with a curious look. "Not that I disagree with your decision, but I do find myself curious as to why you allowed Zevran—a man hired by Howe to kill us—to live, and even join us; yet this other man, who has done far less, is to die."

"Zevran has skills we can use," Aedan said shortly. "Based on how he handled the situation, Berwick did not. I've decided that if I can't use Howe's people to my own advantage, I will kill them as a message to him."

Morrigan thought about his words for a moment and inclined her head. "A sensible reason."

Lilyth crossed her arms, leaning against the table. She didn't care what Aedan's reasons were; she was just glad it was done. "Well, now that you are here, perhaps you can get us rooms, so that we may rest and eat before this fight you intend to drag us all though." She pointed to the bar. "That man, Lloyd, is the owner, and since we do not have enough coin for rooms, meals, and baths, perhaps you can convince him to give us what we need free of charge." Irritation slipped into her voice. "Since, as you well know, this village's survival is dependent on us, the least they can do is provide what we need."

Aedan watched Lloyd with a critical eye. "I think I can manage that."

oOo

An hour later, and Lilyth was in a _much _better mood. Aedan had managed to bully Lloyd into giving them free rooms, and Lilyth had lolled in a hot bath like a snake desperate for a bit of sunlight. Feeling clean and much more cheerful, she twisted her wet hair into a knot on the top of her head and walked down the stairs towards the bar, ignoring the angry glances of the servants. They still weren't happy about all the extra work she had given them; forcing them to carry up the giant basin to her room, and fill it with ewer after ewer of hot water while she splashed water all over the floor. But, she didn't care. It was their job to look after the inn's patrons.

She saw all of her companions seated around a large table with a good sized meal spread out before them, and took a seat in between Morrigan and Zevran, helping herself to some small biscuits. They weren't the best she had ever been served, but they were warm, and that was all she cared about.

Aedan finished up the last of his stew, slipped a few pieces of bread to Fang, and looked around the table. "Once we've all eaten, we should go to our rooms and catch some sleep. We'll only have about an hour—two at most—to rest before dusk. I suggest you all take it, because tonight is going to be rough."

"I believe that the villagers have a good chance tonight," Leliana said with a bright smile, wiping her hands on a stained napkin. "They are feeling much more confident, especially now that Dwyn and his men have joined the militia."

"It would help us if we knew exactly what we were to fight," Morrigan said dryly. "All I have heard is that some claim they are the walking dead, and they only attack at night."

Aedan nodded. "Bann Teagan has seen them for himself, and told me that, to him, they looked like walking corpses. They don't bleed when hit, but they crumple if you cut off their limbs or head, and they attack as if they know what they're doing." He looked at Morrigan and Lilyth. "Have either of you heard of such magic?"

Lilyth took a sip of her spiced cider. "There are mages in Tevinter that delve into necromancy."

"Well, that's no surprise," Alistair mumbled irritably.

Aedan chose to ignore him. "What do you know of the subject?"

"I know that it takes a very powerful mage," Lilyth said. "We are talking of animating lifeless bones, and that takes a lot of energy."

Morrigan nodded. "The bones must have enough energy to knit themselves back together, to work as one, and the corpse must be alive enough to understand and follow orders. Any mage with sufficient willpower can perform such a thing; though generally, a weak mage will not be able to."

Aedan nodded, considering their words. "So, then, this is most likely the work of a mage?"

Lilyth leaned back in her chair. "It is either that, or a demon."

"What makes you say demon?" the nobleman asked.

"There are numerous instances of demons possessing the dead." Lilyth raised an eyebrow. "Surely you know this?"

Leliana nodded. "I have heard of such a thing in the Chantry. This is why we burn our dead, so that they may find peace, and their bodies do not become vessels to unholy beings."

Lilyth fought the urge to roll her eyes. "With so many corpses attacking at once, I would either assume that it is a powerful mage who knows what they are doing, or a powerful demon commanding a host of weaker ones."

"First the walking dead, and now demons," Zevran remarked cheerfully. "And to think I had been worried that life with the Grey Wardens might be boring!"

"Let's just get through tonight for now," Aedan decided. "Then, we can figure out what is animating these corpses in the morning. If we can kill enough of those creatures, we can deliver a big enough blow to give us a chance to sneak into the castle and figure out what's causing all of this."

Soon enough, after the meal was finished, everyone dispersed and went to their separate rooms until Lilyth was the only one left at the table. Strangely, she didn't feel like trying to sleep. After so many weeks of traveling on the hard road, sleeping on rocks and grass, she was exhausted but, for some reason, she didn't want to lie down.

She sat the table alone, ignoring Bella and some of the other servants who came to clean up, idly swirling her cup of cider. She watched the villagers clustered in the corner, each of them growing more and more fearful as the time wore on. Her earlier good mood was rapidly fading, replaced by a growing sense of anger.

Her eyes scanned the room critically, studying all of these pathetic villagers who had gathered to eat and drink before the fight. She couldn't ignore the rage of injustice burning up her stomach. Why should these fools be saved when a little girl, a girl whose life hadn't even had the chance to begin, could be killed in a fit of rage, without anyone to protect her or say one word in her defense.

_She had blue eyes. And the most beautiful gold hair..._

Lilyth jumped up from the table and flew out of the tavern before she could scream in sheer rage, rushing out into the bright sunlight as if to burn the images from her mind. But, it seemed as if even the sun itself had set out to taunt her; it beamed proudly from the sky, burnishing everything in sight with a golden hue so much like her sister's brilliant hair.

Lilyth clasped the crystal around her neck so tightly that the edges cut into her skin. It was the necklace she had used to trap her father, to punish him for what he had done; the necklace she would one day use again. She glared up at the blue sky, a bright blue so like her sister's eyes that Lilyth hated to see it.

_She had blue eyes. And skin so pale it was almost silver._

"I'll find you," she whispered, though she didn't know if Letia could hear her or not. "I swear I'll find you. Wait for me a little longer."

If Lilyth had not been so lost in her own memories, she might have noticed the shadow following her out of the tavern. If she had been paying attention, she might have seen a certain assassin, watching her with a shrewd grin.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Once again, I am terribly sorry at the delay. I got swept up with the eagerness to finish Eyes of a Stranger and start its sequel, and Lilyth got put on the back burner. But, eventually she started demanding attention again; Lilyth really doesn't like being ignored. And thanks to some gentle prodding from some of the Cheeky Monkeys, I looked back on this and realized how long it had been since I updated! I don't want that to happen again (and it really isn't fair to those of you who are reading), so I think I'm going to try to alternate between writing a chapter for EotS and Blood Song. I just need to find a system that allows me to give attention to both.  
><em>

_But I am terribly sorry for making all of you wait. Thank you for those who are sticking with Lilyth, despite how long I've made you wait, and especially those of you who took the time to review the last chapter. It really means a lot.  
><em>

_Special thanks to Suilven, who took time out of her busy schedule to look over this chapter, fix my mistakes, and offer some suggestions that, as always, were spot on. Lots of thanks to Wyl for his suggestions on how to handle the relationship between Lilyth and Zevran. Theirs is a very slow one, but Wyl's advice gave me the perfect insight on how to handle it._


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: **This chapter contains a character death

* * *

><p><strong>X. The Midnight Sun<strong>

Lilyth shivered and hugged her arms around her slim torso, glaring at the cold stone walls as if she could wish them away. "Please, explain to me exactly _why _it is we are sneaking through the dungeons like common thieves."

Zevran glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and laughed to see her misery. "Oh, come now, my lovely Warden. I would have thought that you'd be used to stone surroundings, what with your time spent in the Circle Tower."

"At least _there _I had a room of my own," she retorted, "with warm blankets and a fireplace."

Aedan didn't bother to look back at her. "You heard Teagan as well as the rest of us, Lilyth. Apparently, at this time, this is the only available passage into the castle."

Lilyth scoffed. "Yes, because he was oh so honest with us before. At any rate, I do not see how sneaking into the castle is going to resolve anything. The fool ran off with that horrid woman even _after _Morrigan had explained to him that a demon is most likely at work. No doubt he is already dead with the rest of them."

Morrigan let out a harsh chuckle. "What fools you men are." She slid a look back at Lilyth. "Did you see how he acted when that woman appeared? All she had to do was bat those eyes of hers and he went running off to help, careless of the danger."

"I think it had more to do with the fact that he wants to protect his family," Aedan said, his words somewhat clipped. "We don't _all _bend over backwards when a woman blinks."

"He is still a fool," Lilyth countered. "I do not see what he possibly hopes to accomplish. He is no mage; he does not even know how one speaks to a demon. I think we can assume that he will be used as fodder for whatever it is that the demon wants."

Aedan's lips pressed into a thin, irritated line, but he kept quiet. Lilyth knew that he was already in a poor mood; no doubt she and Morrigan were only making it worse, but she didn't really care. This was a fool's errand, and she was a fool for going along with it.

They had already gone out of their way to defend the village, spending precious time and supplies to stem the tide of walking corpses. Yet, when the sun had risen and it seemed as though they had survived, Teagan had decided that it was the perfect moment to inform them about a secret passage to the castle. A passage they _could_ have already taken, if they had known about it.

Aedan had been beyond furious when he'd found out. He had agreed to help the villagers until they could sneak into the castle and seek out Arl Eamon, but he hadn't expected Teagan to keep a route into the castle secret. Lilyth had hoped that his anger would have meant that they would leave Redcliffe, but no such luck. If anything, Aedan appeared even _more _determined to find the Arl now.

Lilyth was unhappy about the circumstances, especially now that she had a better idea of what had caused all of those walking corpses. While Aedan and Teagan had been arguing, the Arl's wife had come sprinting from the castle, her powdered face frantic.

Her name was Isolde, and she was the most annoying woman Lilyth had ever had the misfortune to meet. It wasn't so much that she was horrible looking—Lilyth could tell that she was used to fine cream and expensive perfume—but she had the most vexing voice and personality in Thedas.

She had sworn that she had no idea what mysterious power was behind these attacks, though it was clear to them all that she had been lying. She had claimed that a mage had poisoned her husband, and that she and her son were being held hostage by this mysterious force. Teagan, the old fool, had been desperate to follow her into the castle, even ignoring Morrigan's pointed comment that this was a demon at work.

Now, they were forced to climb through these filthy dungeons like street urchins, to find some powerful demon and no doubt destroy it. And, the only silver lining Lilyth could find was that Aedan had decided to leave Alistair and Leliana with Fang in the village, to help the villagers nurse their wounded.

"Is... is someone there?"

At the sound of the strange voice, Aedan held up his hand, signaling them all to stop where they were. He peered down the corridor and whispered, "I can see someone in one of these cells."

The four of them quietly crept to the cell where Lilyth could see the shape of a man huddled in the corner. But, when they approached and the man's face came into her view, Lilyth let out a bark of laughter that made everyone look at her as if she was a madwoman.

She ignored the baffled expressions of her companions and walked confidently to the front of the cell, crossing her arms and smiling pleasantly at the man within. "Well, hello, Jowan. What a strange place to find you in." She raised an eyebrow, taking in the bruises on his arms, his swollen eye, torn robes, and the dried blood caked on his skin. "I _would _ask how you are faring, though I can assume the answer for myself."

Jowan scrambled to his feet—she could see more wounds on his hands and arms—and grasped the bars of the cell. "Lilyth? What are _you _doing here?"

She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Oh, I thought to take in the sight of an underground passage. And, why not? I have always longed to visit strange places."

Aedan looked between the two of them. "You know this man, Lilyth?"

"His name is Jowan, and he is a mage from the Circle Tower, as I am. We had the occasional class together." Her dark lashes swept her cheeks. "Though, we share more than that in common."

"What do you mean?" Aedan asked.

Lilyth couldn't be troubled to hide her grin. "Jowan, here, is a blood mage." The mage flinched at her words, but she continued on, her amused smile widening. "A blood mage who, in an effort to avoid Tranquility, destroyed his phylactery and attacked a group of templars using his blood magic. Then, he escaped the Tower."

Jowan clutched onto the bars as if they would keep him connected to reality. "Please, Lilyth, if you know, you must tell me. What happened to Lily and Daylen?"

Lilyth tapped her chin. She well remembered that story; it had been the talk of the Tower in the days before Duncan had taken her to join the Wardens. She had known that the templars suspected Jowan of blood magic—Irving had asked her to watch him, after all—but she hadn't known the degree of his desperation to escape. Not that she could blame him, of course.

"What do you think happened?" she asked. "_You _ran away, but they did not. Your friend Daylen was given the Rite of Tranquility and, from what I was told, Lily was taken to Aeonar." Jowan visibly crumpled at her words, collapsing to the ground and moaning in pain. Lilyth peered down at him, unable to understand his misery. "Why do you look like that? All three of you must have known the risks you were taking; just destroying your phylactery alone was enough to sentence you to Tranquility or death."

Jowan's face was buried in his hands and she heard him mumbling, "Oh, Maker. My poor Lily, and Daylen! They must hate me for it!"

"I doubt that Daylen hates you," Lilyth pointed out rather practically, "as he is unable to feel anything at all. However, I cannot say how Lily feels."

"We really must work on your beside manners, my _mujer de hielo_," Zevran said quietly, with a hint of laughter at the back of his throat.

Lilyth wasn't sure what it was that he had just called her, but she knew enough about him to know that it was more than likely an insult. She sniffed arrogantly and speared him with a scornful look. "Jowan knew well enough what could happen if he was caught, as did Daylen and Lily. They should have all been prepared to deal with the risks. It is a fool who plans only to win."

Aedan looked down at Jowan with suspicion; clearly, he didn't care about what had happened in the Tower. "Isolde mentioned a mage that poisoned Arl Eamon. I take it you're that mage?"

With obvious effort, Jowan grasped the bars of the cell and pulled himself up. "She... told you about that, did she? Yes, I poisoned Arl Eamon, but I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain!"

The nobleman inhaled sharply. "You spoke with Loghain? What did he say?"

"I was running from the templars because of... well, because of what I did, but all I wanted to do was go back to the Tower. Loghain said that he would settle matters with the Circle, if I would do him this favor." Jowan hung his head, looking ashamed of his actions. "He said that Arl Eamon was a threat to the country. I don't know why he wanted me to do this, but I had no reason not to believe him."

"I do not understand," Lilyth interrupted. "Why would you actually _want _to go back to the Tower?"

"That's not important right now," Aedan said briskly. "Jowan, how did you even manage to get into the castle? I doubt Arl Eamon is in the habit of hiring apostates."

Jowan wrung his hands together as if he wished he could tear the pain from his mind. "It was his wife, Lady Isolde, who hired me. She had discovered that her son, Connor, was a mage, and wanted an apostate to teach him to hide his magic."

"She didn't want him to be taken to the Tower," Aedan guessed.

"A mage child can't inherit an estate. If Connor was taken to the Tower, he wouldn't be Eamon's heir. But... she's also a pious woman. Having a mage child is embarrassing for her."

"I wonder," Morrigan remarked thoughtfully, "how much magic did you teach this child? Enough to cause this mess?"

Aedan turned to look at her. "What are you getting at?"

The witch shrugged. "This man, Jowan, is not strong enough to have summoned all of these demons, and I do not believe that he is possessed."

Lilyth nodded in agreement. She had never had much to do with Jowan in the Tower, but she knew enough about him to know that he was a fool, and a weak fool at that. True, she was amused by the way he had brazenly attacked templars with blood magic, but it had been an idiotic thing to do.

"But, a child," Morrigan continued, "a child with a father who has been poisoned... his panic and fear would make it easy for him to unintentionally sunder the Veil and entice a demon to him."

Jowan rested his forehead against the cold bars. "That's what I thought. When the monsters first began attacking everyone in the castle, Lady Isolde came down here with her men to interrogate me. They thought that _I _had done this; but I swear I haven't!"

Aedan rubbed his newly shaven chin. "Morrigan, Lilyth, do you take him at his word? Are you sure that he hasn't summoned a demon?"

"If he _was _the one who called the demon that is causing these walking corpses, I doubt that he would still be here in a cage," Lilyth said. "And I can sense no demonic aura from him." She slid a glance at Morrigan. "Can you?"

The witch shook her head. "No. Whatever it was that called this powerful demon, it did not originate from this man."

"Lilyth, you said that he is a blood mage," Aedan continued, calmly talking about Jowan as if he wasn't there. "Is he like you, then? A blood mage who didn't make a deal with a demon?"

"That is correct. There are quite a number of blood mages who have never spoken with a demon. If you are taught by a mage who already has the skill, there is no need." Lilyth turned an intrigued smile to Jowan. "However, that means that you must have been taught the skill in the Circle Tower. And, it must have been a Senior Enchanter, as I imagine they are the only ones able to actively teach blood magic while hiding it from the templars."

Jowan lowered his head. "Senior Enchanter Uldred; he knew that I was having trouble with some of my spells, and gave me some books on the subject. He encouraged me to read them, and said that the... the Chantry is too hasty to judge blood magic."

Lilyth was unable to hold back her choke of laughter. She knew Uldred well enough; he was First Enchanter Irving's good friend, the man who was so skilled in rooting out blood mages and turning them over to the templars. In fact, it was Uldred's skill at finding blood mages that had led Irving to the idea of using Lilyth for that same purpose. "Well, perhaps you escaped the Tower at just the right moment."

"What do you mean?" Jowan asked.

"Did you not listen to the Circle rumors? Uldred is the great ally of Irving and the templars. He has led Greagoir to half a dozen blood mages, sending each of them to their deaths."

"What?" Jowan gasped. "I didn't know that! He... he encouraged me to study the subject!"

Beside her, Zevran frowned deeply. "So, this Uldred encourages young mages to learn blood magic and then turns them over to the Chantry for it?"

Lilyth inclined her head. "So it would seem. Devious, even by my standards." She certainly had no qualms about handing over foolish blood mages who were too stupid to keep their magic a secret. But, to teach them the art and then betray them? That was something Mistress Brinna might have done, and Lilyth considered herself above that horrid woman.

Aedan sighed and rubbed his temple. "That's cruel, but there's nothing to be done about it now. For the moment, we can assume that Connor is most likely the cause of this mess. What are we to do with him?"

"First, we must find him," Morrigan said. "If he is protected by such a powerful demon, I doubt it will appreciate our interference."

"Please," Jowan said, staring at Aedan pleadingly, "let me go with you."

The nobleman looked surprised. "Why?"

"I know that this is all my fault." Jowan lowered his head. "I didn't summon the demon, but I did poison Arl Eamon, which possibly led to all of this. I need to atone for my mistakes. I want to help if I can."

"I say we take him with us," Morrigan said. "The boy could be useful. But, even if you believe he can do nothing for us, I say we release him. Why should he be punished so for his mistakes?"

Aedan turned a questioning look to Lilyth, clearly asking for her opinion since she knew the mage. "Jowan is a fool," she said bluntly. "But, an honest fool. I lived in the Tower for nine years, and can well understand his actions. Most of us desired to leave the Circle."

"You said he attacked a group of templars," Aedan said thoughtfully.

"Yes, but only after they attempted to harm him, when all he had done was destroy his phylactery." She lifted her chin. "I can assure you, if templars seek to stop _me _from destroying mine, I shall not hesitate to attack them either."

"Might that be the barest hint of empathy in your voice, my dear Warden?" Zevran asked slyly. "One might begin to think that you feel sorry for this mage."

Lilyth clicked her tongue impatiently. "I merely understand the desire to escape the Tower. The man is a fool—as were his friends—for thinking they could escape so easily, but I do not believe it right for a mage to be hated and feared simply because of an accident of birth." Such beliefs made Mistress Brinna's task of enslaving her pets so much easier. Her special ones were mostly mages, and she convinced them that they were apostates; she told them all, Lilyth included, that they had to stay with her for, if they left the safety of her house, they would be hunted down and killed. And those young mages, Lilyth included, who were bought at such a young age and knew no better, were easily convinced to stay with Brinna, believing the alternative to be much worse.

Aedan nodded slowly, as if coming to the end of a hard piece of work. "Very well. We'll take him with us, for now, and see if he can be of any use."

oOo

"Teagan!" Isolde reached down and grasped his hand tightly, helping to pull him to his feet. "Thank the Maker you are all right! I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened!"

The Bann of Rainesfere rubbed the back of his head, looking dazed. "What... what happened?"

"Oh," Lilyth said with a bitter smile, pulling her knife from the dead guard at her feet. "I believe I can answer that question for you." She pointed the knife at Isolde. "Your stupid sister-in-law, mired in foolish superstitions about magic, discovered that her son is a mage and hired an apostate to train him in secret, so that he could hide his talent and stay out of the Tower. However, the apostate—who was, in reality, hired by Loghain—poisoned her husband. So, Connor, being a frightened little boy, accidentally summoned a demon. Now, he is an abomination and the demon is summoning walking corpses to attack and slaughter the village." She looked around at her companions. "Did I forget anything?"

Aedan, who was finishing wiping a bloody dagger off on the tunic of one of the dead guards, straightened up and turned a hard scowl to Isolde. "No, Lilyth. I think you summed it up accurately."

Teagan looked absolutely stunned at this information. "Is this true, Isolde?"

The noblewoman, under the glares of Teagan, Lilyth, and her companions, twisted her hands together anxiously. "If the Chantry discovered that Connor had magic, they would have taken him away! I just wanted him to learn enough to hide it!"

"And a fine job you've done," Aedan snapped, his face darkening with rage. "Because of your actions, your husband has been poisoned, your son has become possessed, and your people are being massacred!"

Isolde raised herself up to her full height, matching the nobleman's anger. "How dare you speak to me like that!"

"I dare, because it's the truth, and because I am the son of the Teyrn of Highever, while you are nothing but an Arlessa," Aedan flared. Lilyth was mildly impressed by the regal tone of his voice. He so rarely spoke of his family that it was easy for her to forget that he was the son of one of the most important men of Ferelden. More often than not, he seemed like just another common soldier.

All of the arrogance fled out of Isolde. "You do not understand. I only... I did not wish for my son to be taken from me."

Teagan, still appearing somewhat confused, looked around the large room. "Where did Connor go?"

"I believe he ran down that corridor," Lilyth said, pointing to the hall that the child had vanished through after taunting them, shouting at them, and then calling his guards to attack them. It was an exhausting end to an already taxing journey through the castle, fighting countless corpses and demons. And, it still wasn't finished; the boy was obviously possessed and now that the demon saw them as enemies, it would have to be killed.

"He has probably run to hide in his rooms," Isolde said sadly. "Violence... scares him. I know that sounds strange, given what he has done, but he is not always the demon that you saw. There are times when my boy, my Connor, comes out." Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. "Please; I know that he is possessed, but there must be a way to save him! He is my son, my little boy!"

Lilyth watched the noblewoman with a critical eye, quite unaffected by her obnoxious crying. Not only did Lilyth despise sobbing, weak women, but she so loathed a failed mother. In her eyes, Isolde was no better than Lilyth's own mother, a pathetic woman who had allowed herself and her daughters to be abused by her husband and sons. A mother who could not—or would not—protect her own child deserved death.

"This cannot be allowed to continue," Teagan said, turning towards Aedan and the others. "Connor is possessed, and we must find a way to get rid of the demon. What are our options?"

Morrigan tapped her chin with a long finger. "The boy has sundered the Veil and become an abomination. The easiest way to rid ourselves of the demon is to kill him."

"No!" Isolde practically flung herself at Teagan. "You cannot let them kill my son! Please!"

"I believe I might have another suggestion," a quiet voice from the front of the room said.

Lilyth turned and saw Jowan walking out from the small entrance hall where he had been hiding. "So, you finally decided against being a coward and are ready to face Isolde?" she asked pleasantly.

"You!" Isolde shrieked; Lilyth winced and covered her sensitive ears from the sound. "This is all your fault!"

Jowan held his hands up in a sign of defeat. "My lady, I know what you must think of me. You invited me into your home and I betrayed your trust. But, I did _not _summon this demon."

"Is this the mage you spoke of?" Teagan asked. "The one who poisoned my brother? Why is he still alive?"

Isolde glared at Jowan with unveiled hatred. "We left him in the dungeons to rot; I had assumed that the monsters had killed him, but I suppose he was released."

"_I _released him," Aedan said firmly, "and I stand by my decision."

"You released the man who poisoned my husband?"

Teagan shook his head. "What he did was reprehensible, but your actions made his task possible, Isolde." He straightened up. "Well, _I _won't turn him away, not while there is a chance he might be able to help. You said there might be another way?"

Jowan nodded. "It might be possible to kill the demon in the Fade."

"I don't understand," Aedan said. "I thought Connor was possessed. Wouldn't the demon be inside him?"

Lilyth shook her head. "Not at all. The demon belongs to the Fade, and rules the boy from there."

Hope sprang to life in Isolde's painted face. "Then, you can kill the demon in the Fade? You can do that without hurting my boy?"

" 'Tis possible," Morrigan concurred. "Though, whether we are _able _to remains to be seen. Traveling to the Fade requires quite a bit of lyrium, as well as a number of mages to work the ritual."

"Neither of which we have," Teagan said, somewhat defeated.

Lilyth and Jowan exchanged a look. She knew that they were both thinking the same thing, but it seemed that Jowan was a bit hesitant to broach the subject. So, it had to be her. "There is another way." She took care to keep her voice light, as if the matter was of no concern to her.

Aedan watched her intently. "Tell us."

"What Morrigan says is true: traveling to the Fade normally requires plenty of lyrium and many mages." She raised her chin. "But, you forget that Jowan and I have blood magic." She heard the whispers of shock and surprise from Isolde and Teagan, but ignored them. Normally, she would have been hesitant to admit such a thing in front of strangers, but she felt confident that they would remain quiet, especially with Connor's life on the line. And, if her idea worked like she hoped, she would only have _one _person to convince to remain silent.

"Blood magic," she continued, "can allow one of us to travel to the Fade without the use of lyrium, and it only requires one mage to work the ritual."

"But, it's a risk," Jowan added quietly. "Such powerful blood magic requires the use of a person's life force." He shifted anxiously. "All of it, in fact."

"So, in order for the ritual to work, someone must be killed?" Aedan asked.

Lilyth nodded solemnly. "Yes. By using the life force, I can mix it with my own energy to create enough to send another mage to the Fade, where they can kill the demon. With the demon dead, Connor is free."

"I will do it," Isolde said suddenly.

"Isolde, are you mad?" Teagan demanded. "If Eamon was awake, he would never allow this!"

The noblewoman looked determined. "Either someone must kill my son to expel the demon, or someone must die to protect him. To me, the choice is clear."

Lilyth turned her head so that the others would not see the pleased smile on her face. This was exactly what she wanted. She so loathed a failed mother; in her view, it was far better to kill Isolde than an innocent child. Connor was barely older than Letia had been; it was not his fault that he had reacted as he had. The world was filled with children who were nothing more than victims of their parents, and Lilyth despised those parents almost more than she did the Mistress.

She noticed Zevran watching her and quickly dropped her smile, instead adopting a neutral, indifferent look. But, it was too late; she knew he had seen her pleasure at the thought of Isolde's death, and mentally cursed. Why must he always silently watch her? It made her uncomfortable in a way she didn't quite understand. Was he trying to gather information about her? For what purpose? Would he use it against her at a later time?

"Isolde, are you sure that you're willing to die?" Aedan asked. Lilyth turned her attention from the vexing assassin and noted that Aedan seemed to genuinely be considering his options.

The Arlessa nodded. "If this is what it takes to free my son, then I will gladly give my life."

He turned to Morrigan and Lilyth. "And there's no other option, aside from either killing Isolde or Connor?"

Morrigan shrugged. "I suppose it would be possible to travel to the Circle Tower and ask them to aid us." Her tone conveyed her distaste for that idea. "But, would they truly be willing to help an apostate child already possessed? It seems more likely that the templars would wish to kill him."

"That, or give him the Rite of Tranquility," Lilyth agreed.

Aedan nodded, his face troubled. "Then, if those are our only options, I suppose blood magic is the option we shall take. If Isolde wants to give her life for her son, who are we to stop her?" He pointed a finger at Lilyth. "But, you will be the one to perform the ritual." The implication of his words—that he didn't trust Jowan—was evident to them all. "Who will you send into the Fade?"

"Any mage would do," Lilyth said. "Either Morrigan or Jowan would be sufficient."

Aedan thought over her words for a moment. "Morrigan, you'll be the one to travel to the Fade."

The witch scoffed. "Why send me? Why not make Jowan do it, since he wishes to atone?"

"He wants to help, yes, but he already poisoned Eamon." He ignored Jowan's wince. "Besides, didn't you imply that you're far stronger than he is?"

Morrigan, caught by her own words, let out a sigh and reluctantly nodded. "Very well. But, you will owe me for this task."

Aedan turned to look at Teagan. "We need someone to lock Connor in his room and keep an eye on him. I don't know how this demon business works, so I don't know if Connor will try to escape. Take Jowan with you; he can help you if something goes wrong." Teagan nodded solemnly, grabbed Jowan by his upper arm and, with a worried look at Isolde, left the room.

Lilyth clapped her hands together and smiled. "Well, let us get started, shall we?"

It was an easy enough matter to get everything prepared. Lilyth instructed Aedan and Zevran to put out the torches that lit the walls and pull the drapes over the windows, shrouding the large room in darkness, while she and Morrigan lit a few small candles and placed them in a large circle. Such a powerful ritual required absolute concentration, and the darkness ensured that Lilyth wouldn't get distracted by noticing Aedan or Zevran standing to the side, while the candles guaranteed that she would have an easier time focusing on Isolde.

Once the room was black, save for the candles flickering ominously, Lilyth stepped into the center of the circle with Isolde and told Morrigan to stand just outside the candles. She warned Aedan to be ready to catch the witch when she inevitably fell and, although Morrigan wasn't pleased at the idea, she didn't put up much of a fight.

Isolde knelt in front of Lilyth with her hands clasped together, frightened prayers tumbling from her trembling lips. She was shaking, terrified of dying, and asked that Lilyth tell Connor that she loved him, but Lilyth ignored her words. This was the proper justice for mothers who failed to protect their children.

She pulled the knife from her belt, looked at Morrigan to ensure that the witch was ready and, at her nod, in one swift movement, grabbed Isolde by the hair, yanked her head up and sliced the knife across her throat. The Arlessa died almost instantly; the cut to the main artery ensured that she bled out with nothing more than a gasp and a shudder.

Lilyth dropped Isolde and closed her eyes as the blood from her body pulsed and jumped towards her. It was like the time before, when she had killed her own parents for their crimes. She could feel the zest of life and energy sparkling in her veins; her skin felt like it was on fire with strength. So much blood, teeming with vitality; it was intoxicating. She felt invincible, drunk on her own power. She felt like she could walk through fire if she wanted; like she could end the Blight with the wave of her hand.

Isolde's body slumped to the ground, completely white as Lilyth continued to pull more and more blood. The breathtaking, stimulating life force swirled around Lilyth like a dazzling whirlpool of power. She reveled in it, wanting to hold this feeling of power forever.

It took a lot of effort to turn her mind to the task at hand. She was so drunk on the magic that it was difficult to focus, especially as she mixed her own energy with it, adding more and more until she had enough to perform the ritual. She held her hands up, the blood swirling around her arms as she moved, and used the force of her energy to tear open a hole through the Veil.

There wasn't much time to act. If she left the Veil torn for too long, demons would notice the power behind it and, enticed by such magic, would find the tear and try to slip through. She could feel the resistance as the Veil fought against the destruction of its natural state. Lilyth added more energy to keep the hole open, so lost in the experience that she didn't notice her breath coming in ragged gasps. She held a hand out towards Morrigan and sent a burst of energy out, grabbing hold of the witch's soul.

It took every last bit of energy Lilyth had; every bit of the power she had pulled from Isolde's body, but she managed to take hold of Morrigan's soul and force it through the Veil, shutting the tear behind her. Once in the Fade, her soul would find its way back to her body naturally; it was forcing a soul through the tear, an unnatural action brought about through the power of blood magic or lyrium, that took so much energy.

The task finished, Lilyth released her hold on the last bit of energy and, with a gasp for air, fell forward, landing on top of Isolde. She reached a hand out and lifted herself to her hands and knees, though she could feel her muscles shaking violently. The blood, lifeless now that all the energy had been pulled, fell to the ground, as useless as plain water.

She tried to climb to her feet but her arms were shaking too badly for her to make them work, an effect of using so much of her own energy. A few of the candles beside her were put out, and she felt cool hands wrap around her burning arms, guiding her back to help her sit on her heels.

"Well, that was most impressive." She raised her eyes—which felt like dead weights—and saw Zevran, his face inches from hers, the barest hint of an impish smile curving on the corners of his lips. "I must say, I have never seen such a spell. It reminds me of a dance the famous _bailarines_ of Rialto might perform; though, I will admit that yours is quite a bit more wicked. To my knowledge, the _bailarines_ have never actually killed someone on stage." He put a light hand under her chin and gently turned her head so that her face was towards one of the candles. "As I thought," he said, almost to himself. "Even your eyes are black."

Irritated and exhausted, Lilyth turned her head away from his hand. "I do not need your help. Move away." She tried to pull out of his grasp, but she was too drained from the ritual and, instead of haughtily twisting out of his arms as she had planned, she ended up yanking herself free and almost collapsing on top of Isolde's body again.

With a chuckle, Zevran put his hands on her shoulders and slowly helped her up to her feet. "There is no need to struggle so. Allow me to help you so that you do not fall again."

Once on her feet, Lilyth's legs wobbled, and she was forced to lean against Zevran for support. She was absolutely livid at how her shoulder rested against his chest, at how his arm was around her waist to help keep her steady. But, she was too drained to do anything about it except send out mental curses his way and imagine all the different ways she could kill him.

As close as she was, she happened to notice that his dark skin carried the faint hint of an expensive, musky cologne; for the barest of seconds she was distracted and intrigued by it, wondering where he had purchased it and how he had managed to carry it with them while they traveled. Most of all, she was curious as to how he'd managed to keep the scent even though he was bruised and bloody from the countless battles. If only she could learn that trick! But, before she could demean herself by asking for his secret, she resolutely pushed the thought away, reminding herself that she was furious with him.

Aedan stepped out from a small side room with a lit torch in his hand. He went around the stone walls of the Great Hall, lighting the other torches so that the area was covered in light again. "Morrigan is asleep; I set her on one of the couches in the next room. Do you know how long she'll be out?"

"It depends how long it takes her to find the demon and kill it," Lilyth said stiffly, trying to cling to her dignity even as she reluctantly held on to Zevran.

Once all of the torches were lit and the room was bathed in light, Aedan set the one he carried in a vacant sconce against the wall, and came over to examine her inquisitively. "That was some ritual; even I could feel the power from it." He studied her face. "You're as white as a ghost; you look like you're about to pass out."

Lilyth, never one to appreciate insulting remarks about her appearance, scowled. "There is a reason the ritual requires a death; sending another person to the Fade takes a lot of energy. This is why it usually takes dozens of vials of lyrium and a team of mages."

"I can see that it does take a lot," Aedan remarked. "Do your eyes always turn black when you use blood magic, or is it only because of the amount of energy? I hadn't noticed them changing before."

Lilyth tried to shrug, but even her shoulders were stiff. She'd never used so much energy in one burst before, and felt like she had been trampled by a horse. "Perhaps it was the amount of energy, I do not know. I have never taken the time to look at myself after using such magic."

Aedan nodded, as if it was an interesting bit of information. "Well, I think you should get some rest before you pass out. I'll find Teagan and Jowan and tell them what happened." He gestured to the side room. "There's another couch in there; why don't you lie there for a bit? Then, when Morrigan wakes up, we can get you both something to eat." He hesitated. "Will she be all right after her battle?"

Lilyth noticed the barest touch of concern in his voice and filed it away for later. "I should think she will be fine; she is a strong mage, and no doubt will find it easy to wake once she has killed the demon. But, I am sure that she will be tired and hungry. Staying in the Fade, especially after such a ritual, will be draining for her."

"I'll make sure there's some food for you both when you wake up," Aedan said, before heading down the corridor where Teagan and Jowan had gone to find Connor.

"Well, then," Zevran said cheerfully, "let us get you to the couch so that you can rest."

He bent down, as if to scoop her up and carry her to the room, but Lilyth immediately smacked his hand, cursing the fact that she was too exhausted to set his stupid hair on fire. "Oh, no. I will be damned if I am carried before I am dead."

She felt his laugh rumble through his chest. "Such a stubborn mage you are, my _mujer de hielo_. Very well, at least allow me to assist you to the room. Otherwise, you might collapse right here, and then I will have to carry you anyway."

"What does that even mean?" Lilyth asked irritably. "_Mujer de_... whatever that was."

"Oh, you are curious, are you?" Zevran's smile widened. "That is interesting to know."

"You are not going to answer me, are you?"

"I suppose I might, if you answer one of _my _questions."

Lilyth turned her head. "I am too tired to play these games, assassin."

"Then, it is good that you will soon be asleep, yes?"

Lilyth decided to ignore him as they walked slowly towards the small room. Her legs shook every step of the way, and part of her was secretly grateful to have someone help her, though she would have given a fortune for it to be someone other than Zevran.

She didn't trust him. She didn't trust his sly grins, or the way he always watched everyone—including her—like he was gathering evidence for later use. She had known too many men like him; men who eyed everyone, whether man or woman, as a potential target. Men who thought they could charm anyone, who hid their thoughts under a mask of deceit.

But, as he let her go and she stumbled into the room, collapsing onto the couch opposite of Morrigan, Lilyth had to grudgingly admit to herself that at least he had maintained a respectful air. He had helped her walk, hand around her waist to help keep her steady, without ever slipping it up or down for an "accidental" feel.

It didn't make her dislike him any less, but at least he knew enough to keep his hands to himself. She had traveled to the abyss and back to never again have to endure the shame of being touched without her consent. Lilyth rolled onto her side, raised her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and closed her eyes.

She had worked hard to put those memories behind her. And she would do anything to keep from going back.

oOo

"I just... I don't understand why he decided to leave us behind," Alistair mumbled quietly.

Leliana finished packing up her extra bandages and looked up at him, shading her eyes against the bright glare of the afternoon sun. It was not the first time Alistair had made this particular complaint; she could see how much Aedan's decision was troubling him. "Surely Aedan knew that we would be effective in helping the wounded villagers."

"But, he took Lilyth and Morrigan with him," Alistair retorted, as if that was the only argument. "Instead of us. Why?"

"He said that they are most likely dealing with a demon. In that case, I assume it would be better for him to have mages, who know a bit more about the situation."

At her practical comment, Alistair stopped his pacing to look at her. "You really don't worry about what they might do?"

Leliana slipped her pack over her shoulder and gestured that the two of them should go back to the inn. Both had spent all morning helping to tend to the wounded villagers, and were in desperate need of some rest. "Why should I worry? Really, Alistair, I think it is you who worry too _much_." His eyebrows shot up to his hairline; Leliana couldn't help but laugh. "If Morrigan and Lilyth were so dangerous, surely they would have already done something to harm us."

Alistair shook his head. "I just... I don't get it. Look, I can see why Aedan is fine with Morrigan–although she's dangerous too–but," he lowered his voice slightly, "Lilyth is _actually _a blood mage. The Chantry absolutely forbids it; doesn't her magic bother you in the slightest?"

"I suppose it does make me a bit uncomfortable, but I do not think we should lump her into the typical category of an evil blood mage." Leliana frowned, thinking of the things she had heard Lilyth say at camp, of the muttered comments she had whispered to herself when she thought no one was listening. She hesitated. "Alistair, I think you perhaps judge her too harshly. Have you not heard her muttering about someone named Mistress Brinna?"

"Who is that?"

"I have no clue, but I have heard Lilyth say the name more than once, and I do know the tone of hatred when I hear it." Leliana shook her head. "I have seen men and women who are cruel for the simple sake of cruelty, and Lilyth does not strike me as one of those people."

Alistair looked skeptical. "Have we actually met the same woman?"

Leliana couldn't help but giggle. "Very well, she can be harsh, and she often says mean things, but I do not believe that she can be labeled as simply evil. I think there is more to it than that and, in any case, it is not our place to judge. We have enough to worry about, what with the Blight and the Archdemon, without constantly wondering what Lilyth is doing." She smiled up at him. "Aedan is fine leader; even if you worry about Lilyth and Morrigan, perhaps we should at least trust him, yes?"

Alistair was quiet for a moment as he thought over his words. Eventually, he let out a long sigh. "I suppose you might be right. All of my constant worry over the two of them hasn't gotten me anywhere, and Aedan seems positive that they aren't a danger to us. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but you're right in that he hasn't led us astray. I suppose I should trust him." His shoulders relaxed, as if a partial weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Leliana."

She reached up and patted his cheek. "It is my pleasure, Alistair."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Lots of thanks, hugs, and cookies to Suilven, for going over this chapter and giving me her opinions and thoughts. She's been so busy with NaNoWriMo, but she always still manages to make time for others. Congrats on making it to the finish sweetie!_

_A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are lurking. It means a lot!_


	11. Chapter 11

**XI. Uncover our Heads to Reveal our Souls**

"_This is an important day, my darlings, for today you will begin the next part of your training," Mistress Brinna said, her voice as sweet as sugar melting in a pot. She knelt before the three young girls and looked around at them with the warm smile of a caring mother. "Now, each of you will cut yourselves __on the back of your arm. Just a small line; there is no need to cut yourselves too deep but, you must make sure to draw blood." Her smile widened. "I shall teach you how to control that blood."_

_She gestured to Anthea, the human mage who had been standing silently at the back; Anthea slowly came forward and handed each of the girls a small knife. With the barest trace of hesitation, Lilyth took her own and looked back at Mistress Brinna, her eyes wide. They had all heard that their powerful Mistress knew spells that none of them could ever have imagined; spells that she had learned in Tevinter, where the mages there weren't afraid of their power. Was she going to teach them these spells? Only the very special ones got to learn that secret magic!_

_Lilyth had never heard of controlling blood before but, if Mistress Brinna thought t__hat they should learn it, she was proud and eager to do so. Then, Mistress Brinna would see how special Lilyth was. Elita had told her that only the prettiest and strongest children became the Mistress' favorites. Lilyth had only rarely seen the special on__es; they lived in Mistress Brinna's beautiful estate and rarely came to the brothel where Lilyth and the other children lived. Lilyth had been told that they had rooms of their own, with thick blankets and warm fires, and got to eat all sorts of delicious __food. Mistress Brinna loved her special ones and took very good care of them, and Lilyth was determined to be one of the favorites._

_The Mistress must have noticed Lilyth's desire to learn these new spells, for she turned her lovely smile to the ten year old. "You are eager, sweetling?"_

"_Yes, Mistress."_

_The beautiful woman nodded in approval, but made no comment. Instead, she turned to the redhead next to Lilyth. "Madlyn, you are first. Take your knife and cut a small line down the back of your arm, and we shall proceed."_

_The little girl, only a year older than Lilyth, gripped her knife tightly; Lilyth could see her knuckles turn white. She started to lift the blade towards the back of her wrist but then stopped, her lower lip trembling. "M-mistress... this is... blood magic... isn't it?"_

"_And so?" Mistress Brinna's smile was as soothing as a warm blanket during a winter night, but her dark eyes were sharp and cold as a hawk's._

_Madlyn took a step back, glancing anxiously at Lilyth and the other girl, Chana, as if she hoped they might help her. But, both girls looked away as if they didn't see her. Left to fend for herself, Madlyn swallowed nervously. "M-mama and P-papa told me that b-blood magic is... wrong, Mistress."_

_Lilyth met Chana's eyes, and both __suppressed the smug smiles of superior girls who thought they knew better; indeed, they _did _know better. Better than Madlyn, at least. Who was she to question the Mistress?_

_The two of them, along with Madlyn, were the only girl mages who still went to lessons. There were a few boy mages,__ too, but they were taught by one of the men and had their lessons in a separate part of the brothel. Lilyth and Chana, both quick to learn and master spells, had become fast friends and often excluded Madlyn when they __pr__acticed because she was so annoying, always afraid of something, or crying for her parents. It was no surprise that she was too scared to learn this new magic, but she was sure to get in trouble for speaking out like that._

_Mistress Brinna stood up, smoothing down the folds of her dark red gown. "Anthea, you informed me that these girls were prepared to begin the next part of their training," she said quietly._

_Anthea, who had been charged with training the young girls in their basic spells, bit her bottom lip nervously. "It was my mistake, Mistress," she said humbly, lowering her eyes to the ground. "I had thought Madlyn understood the gift you were prepared to offer her."_

_Mistress Brinna turned her sweet smile back to Madlyn, who was shaking __so badly that she almost dropped the knife. "You say your mother and father told you that blood magic is wrong?" The little girl nodded, looking somewhat relieved at the Mistress' mellow tone. The beautiful woman ran a hand lovingly over Madlyn's cropped hair before lightly grasping her chin, forcing her to look up. "Your mother and father sold you, child. They took the gold that I offered and cast you out of their home. How can you trust a word they ever said to you, for obviously they did not love you."_

_Madlyn winced at Mistress Brinna's words, and Lilyth scowled down at her feet. Why did Madlyn always have to be such a baby? It wasn't like this was new information; all of the children in the brothel knew that they had been sold in one way or another. Some of them, like Lilyth and Madlyn, had been sold by their own parents, who valued money more than their children. Others, like Chana, had been orphans, and had been bought for their looks. Mistress Brinna took them in and gave them a good home, where they had food and clothes and friends._

_They were expected to work, of course, but it was a fair enough payment for what the Mistress had done for them. The children helped clean the rooms and take care of the pretty gardens. And,__ when they grew older, if they weren't chosen as __Mistress Brinna's special favorites, they joined the men and women of the brothel, who got to drink wine and spend their nights entertaining the strange people who came to see them. _

_Lilyth and Chana would sometimes stay up late and watch them, and it seemed to her that the older boys and girls got to have a merry night, drinking and laughing while the strangers admired them and then took them into one of the rooms for more private talks. One of the older girls, Gisa, said that the private talks could often be unpleasant, but it was better than living on the streets._

_Mistress Brinna released her grip on Madlyn's chin and looked around at the three girls. "I teach you this special magic so that you may learn to protect yourselves. You are, all of you, apostates. The Chantry condemned you from the moment of your birth. If any of them had discovered your talents, they would have locked you away in the Circle Tower with all of the other frightened mages. Mages who are never allowed to set foot outside, who do not even see the sunlight."_

_She shook her head regretfully; the diamonds in her gold hair caught the light of the candles and winked at Lilyth like bright eyed conspirators. "Now, however, you have lived outside of the Chantry's law for too long. If any of the templars were to find you, they would take you away from me and kill you."_

_She saw Lilyth and Chana's scowls of anger and nodded in approval. Everyone knew how evil the templars were; they were just waiting for an excuse to kill any mage they found. "Blood magic," Mistress Brinna continued, "is not an evil art, though the Chantry vilifies it because they fear us. But, I want my children to know how to defend themselves." Her voice lowered to a sweet purr. "You are my own girls, my precious loves. Perhaps,__ you might even grow to become one of my favorites. You know that only special ones become my favorites, yes?"_

"_Yes, Mistress," Lilyth and Chana said in unison, both of them eager to become one of the favorites. Madlyn looked down at her feet nervously and stayed quiet._

"_Only I know how to keep you safe from the templars. But, it seems that Madlyn needs to be reminded of how lucky she is to be one of my children." The Mistress gestured to Anthea. "Take her to the solitary room."_

"_M-mistress, please," Madlyn whimpered._

_Mistress Brinna ignored her pleas, never taking the pleasant smile from her face as Anthea grabbed the little girl on her upper arm and dragged her from the room. Lilyth could hear her crying as Anthea pulled her away and, for a split moment, part of her felt bad for Madlyn. The solitary room was a horrible punishment; a boy or girl who offended the Mistress would be put there all night, where they would have no contact with anyone and would spend the night being attacked by horrible nightmares, sometimes to the point where they couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Mistress Brinna loved Waking Nightmare, and never hesitated to use it on those who upset her._

_But, Lilyth ignored the small bit of discomfort that had settled into her stomach. Madlyn should have kept quiet; it was her own fault for whining like a baby. Mistress Brinna rarely came to the brothel; it was an honor that she took the time to teach them magic at all. How could Madlyn offend her like that? Mistress Brinna did a lot for her children; if not for her, Lilyth would have been forced to stay in the Alienage with the drunken father and terrified mother who had caused Letia's death._

"_Now," the Mistress said, turning her attention back to the two girls, "it is your turn, Lilyth."_

_The little girl smiled and lifted the knife, pushing away her uncertainty. She would prove to Mistress Brinna that she was a strong mage, worthy of being one of the favorites__._

Lilyth's eyes flung open and she sat up in her bed, her heart beating against the inside of her chest. For one dreadful moment, she imagined that she was back in the extravagant estate of the Mistress. But, as her eyes slowly became adjusted to the darkness, she saw the garish interior of her room and remembered that she was in Redcliffe Castle.

With a sigh of annoyance, she flung the blankets back and hopped out of bed, cursing herself for her foolish anxiety. It had been nothing more than a dream of the past.

But, why should she dream about that _now_? There was no purpose to any of it; the past was the past. It was pointless to think of Madlyn, who had never managed to put aside her fears and had one day disappeared from the brothel, never to be seen again. Pointless to think of Chana, who had, along with Lilyth, become one of Brinna's favorites and who had been Lilyth's friend until the night Lilyth had run away.

Lilyth rubbed her throbbing forehead and began to pace around the small room, walking around in circles like a caged animal; fighting to banish the memories from her mind until the first bit of grey lightened the sky outside, and she knew that her ordeal was over.

oOo

"It has been a full day," Teagan said with a frown. "The demon is dead and Connor is free of its control, but my brother still will not wake."

Aedan crossed his arms and leaned against the desk in Eamon's study, unable to think of a solution. "So, what do you propose? If killing the demon didn't cure the Arl of his sickness, what will?"

Teagan hesitated. "Before Isolde... passed away, she had sent Eamon's knights to seek out the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She believed that it would cure him."

Aedan raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had heard the Bann correctly. "You mean Andraste's Ashes?" At Teagan's nod, he bit back the urge to laugh. "Why would she ever think that the knights could find it? Andraste's Ashes have supposedly been hidden for centuries. And, now that I think of it, why would she even believe that the Ashes are in Ferelden at all?"

Teagan began pacing around the room. "Believe me, I know that the idea sounds very far-fetched, but Eamon once employed a great scholar by the name of Brother Genitivi—you may have heard of him—who has done much research on the subject. By the time he left Eamon's service to further pursue his knowledge, he claimed that he was close to discovering the location of the Ashes."

Aedan hesitated. As a child raised with the Chantry's teachings, he had learned all about the reputed healing powers of Andraste's Sacred Ashes, but the Chantry had said that it was an ancient relic lost to time. "Bann Teagan... you understand that the Blight is a threat against the whole country. I'm afraid we can't afford to run all over Ferelden searching for an artifact that might not even exist. We must work to gather our allies and defeat the Archdemon."

Teagan paused his agitated pacing to look at him. "Forgive my bluntness, Aedan, but what kind of army can you hope to put together without Eamon's soldiers and the Royal Army?"

The young nobleman bristled. "I have treaties compelling the mages of the Circle Tower, the dwarves of Orzammar, and even the Dalish elves to aid the Grey Wardens against the Blight," he said shortly.

"But, what if they refuse to honor their promises? Or, even if they do agree, how many men will you gain? I doubt very much that the templars will let more than a handful of mages out of the Tower, even for such a cause as the Blight. And, from what I understand, the Dalish are nothing more than a few Clans scattered across the country. How will they be able to provide you with the army that you will need to battle the darkspawn?"

Aedan scowled, reluctantly acknowledging Teagan's words. He pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the large window, staring out at the dark clouds that were beginning to gather as a spring storm approached. He pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. The templars would balk at the thought of mages being released from the Tower; he could expect to gain no more than two dozen. And, although mages had powerful spells, how much damage could a few dozen truly do to a large army of tainted creatures?

As for the Dalish... Aedan didn't even really know _where _to begin searching for them. He had asked Lilyth and Zevran, hoping that, since they were elves, they might have heard _some_ rumors of their wild kin, but Lilyth knew absolutely nothing of the Dalish, and all Zevran could suggest was that they travel to the Brecilian Forest and hope that they stumbled onto one of their camps.

The dwarves would surely agree to help against the Blight; Alistair had said that the dwarves had always been allies to the Grey Wardens. But, Aedan had never met the King of Orzammar, and didn't know how friendly he was with humans. How many men would _they _be willing to give up?

With a sigh, he turned from the window, knowing that Teagan was right. They needed all the men that they could get. "Very well, I can see your point." He saw the Bann's noticeable relief and held a hand up. "But, I must warn you that while we are searching for the Ashes, we must continue with our task. I'm afraid I can't risk putting everything on hold while we try to find an artifact that might not exist."

"I understand," Teagan said quickly. "Brother Genitivi will certainly help you, especially if you explain Eamon's condition. He has a house in Denerim; you will want to search for him there."

Aedan nodded, turning to the next bit of business. "Tell me... how is the Arl likely to react when we tell him what happened with Isolde? Is it possible that he will alert the Chantry about Lilyth's magic?"

Teagan had already sworn on his honor to keep Lilyth's blood magic a secret and Aedan trusted him to keep his word, but he had no idea how Eamon would react if they were honest about what had happened. If the Arl would run to the Chantry, then Aedan would have to find some way to stop him. It was true that Duncan had claimed that the Grey Wardens were above the authority of the Chantry, even going so far as to recruit Lilyth _after _he'd learned about her blood magic but, from what Aedan knew, the Chantry wasn't generally in the habit of letting maleficarum roam free.

Personally, he didn't judge Lilyth for her blood magic. She was an arrogant, temperamental, and frustratingly spoiled young woman, but her magic itself was useful. There were many times when she drove him to the edge of his short patience and beyond, but her blood magic allowed her to freeze an entire group of darkspawn at once, giving the others an opportunity to kill them without risk to themselves. Aedan saw her magic as a tool, much like a sword or bow. And, since she only used her own blood or the blood of their enemies to fuel her spells, what harm did it do? She wasn't possessed, so they weren't vulnerable to a demon. Why _shouldn't_ she use the skills available to her?

Teagan frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I... don't know," he admitted. "He has a great respect for the Grey Wardens but, knowing that it was a blood mage who poisoned him, and a blood mage who killed his wife..." Teagan shrugged. "I can't say how he will react."

"But, his wife _chose_ to die so that their son could live," Aedan pointed out.

The Bann nodded. "Yes, and that is why I say I don't know how he will react. Perhaps Eamon will respect Isolde's wishes; perhaps he will see that we had little other choice. Or, perhaps, in his grief, he will be angry."

"I see." Aedan was struck by a sudden idea. "What if we tell Eamon that the mage who poisoned him, Jowan, was the same blood mage who performed the ritual? What if we make no mention of Lilyth's magic at all?"

"Jowan will certainly deny that. At the moment, he is being held in the dungeon until Eamon wakes, and I doubt very much that he will let us pin another crime on him."

"That is true, unless we make sure that Jowan is not around to refute our claim."

Teagan saw what it was that Aedan was hinting at, and couldn't cover his shock. "You would kill him to keep Lilyth's magic a secret?"

Aedan shrugged. "Jowan poisoned Arl Eamon. Whether or not he was acting under Loghain's orders is irrelevant; he still committed a grave crime. He would be sentenced to death either way."

The Bann was silent for a moment. "I suppose you're right; I had thought to ask what you wished to do with him anyway. I will summon one of the guards to prepare for his execution."

He began to walk to the door, but Aedan stopped him. "I'll do it. The guards are still helping the villagers prepare their dead and recover after the attacks."

Teagan seemed a bit uncomfortable by Aedan's words, but he apparently couldn't think of any reason to disagree. "Very well. I suppose, if you wish to kill him, then it makes no difference."

"I'll ask Morrigan to burn his body after," Aedan remarked casually, "so that the villagers do not have to see him set on the pyre with their loved ones who passed."

He was about to leave Eamon's office to get on with his task but, before he reached the door, Teagan put out a hand to stop him. "Aedan, with everything else that's happened I have not had a chance to say this, but I wished to tell you that I am truly sorry for what happened to your noble family."

Aedan inhaled sharply at the unexpected reminder. He preferred not to think of that night anymore. He had spent so many days dreaming of his mother and father desperately trying to staunch the blood, shouting for Duncan to take him away; of little Oran lying broken on the ground. He had tried to push the memories out of his mind, to focus solely on the Blight and Howe; he never even spoke of his family to his companions. To have them mentioned now, so suddenly, was an unwelcome shock.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. Then, before he could help himself, he added, "Does anyone in Denerim even know what Howe did?"

Teagan wouldn't meet his eyes. "They have heard that the Cousland family died when the castle was set on fire."

Something about his stance alerted Aedan. "What is it, Teagan?" He felt a pit settle in his stomach, instinctively knowing that whatever it was Teagan didn't want to tell him, it wasn't going to be good.

"Howe has been spreading the story that your parents were betrayed from within."

"They were!" Aedan growled. "By him! My father's best friend!"

Teagan lowered his head. "Yes, but obviously he does not name himself. He and Loghain claim that they are investigating what happened, but so far they have not yet named the culprit. It is my belief that they already have a name to put the blame on, and are waiting for the correct moment." He hesitated, but at Aedan's glare continued. "I would assume that they will accuse you."

It was like a sharp punch to the gut. "They're going to accuse _me _of my family's murders?"

"They know that you are a Grey Warden, and have spent these last few weeks claiming that the Wardens betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar. Before you arrived here, even _I _had heard the rumors that three of the Grey Wardens had survived the battle. I would assume that Loghain and Howe are waiting to see if you, the only Cousland alive who was a witness to Howe's treachery, are one of the Wardens who survived Ostagar. If you decided to come against them, they can name you as the one who betrayed your parents and turn the Landsmeet against you."

Aedan's hands were balled up so tightly he could feel them shaking. He knew, as Teagan didn't, that Loghain was well aware of his survival. It was those soldiers at Lothering, the ones who had attacked them in the tavern. Aedan had stopped Lilyth from killing one of them; he had been so angry, so enraged, that he'd wanted that soldier to put the fear of the Maker in Loghain's heart. He had told that soldier to take a message to Loghain, to tell him that the Grey Wardens were coming for him. That man would have taken Aedan's description to Loghain, who would have instantly recognized who he was.

"Loghain knows that I'm alive," he said quietly. "And no doubt Howe knows as well. There were soldiers waiting for us in Lothering; they were told to kill any surviving Grey Wardens. We let one of them live, to take a message to Loghain, and he would have told the Teyrn what I look like." He let out a slow breath, trying to keep himself steady. "Zevran attacked us shortly after, and he claimed that Howe hadn't given him a description of what the surviving Wardens looked like but, by now, the soldier from Lothering would have reached Denerim."

Teagan nodded thoughtfully as he took in this bit of information. "Then, if they are aware that you survived, I think we can assume that they will indeed lay blame for what happened to your family at your feet." He looked up and saw Aedan's outrage. "I doubt that many will believe them, however. There are many who wonder at Loghain's fortuitous withdrawal from the battle, and even his own allies are speculating as to what Howe has done to be so favored."

Aedan had to restrain from punching the wall; he barely heard Teagan's assurances. "I swear, they will pay for this." He took in a deep breath to steady himself and push the thoughts away. He didn't want to think of his family. He didn't want to wonder whether or not Fergus had survived Ostagar. If he thought about them too much, he would go crazy.

"I must go," he said, desperate to focus on something else. "I'll take care of Jowan; we'll speak more later."

He left the room before he had a chance to betray his anger, and went in search of Morrigan. As he had expected, she was shut away in the library with Lilyth, her nose buried in one of those endless books the two women were constantly exchanging.

Both seemed mildly curious as to why he wished for Morrigan to follow him, but they said nothing. He saw the witch's interest peak when he stopped by his room to grab some freshly washed, plain clothing but, when he indicated that he didn't wish to talk where others could hear them, she remained quiet. Instead, she followed him silently down to the dungeons, where Jowan had been shoved back into his cell after the demon had been killed.

The blood mage nervously stood up when he saw the two of them approaching. "Is this it, then?" he asked anxiously. "Am I to be killed now?"

Aedan crossed his arms and looked at the young man. Jowan was as thin as a stick; he looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, and his face was as pale and waxen as a doll. "I've told Teagan that I would execute you for poisoning the Arl."

Morrigan tossed him a questioning, somewhat irritated look, but said nothing. Jowan, however, hung his head, as if he had been prepared for this. "I... understand. I only ask that you make it quick."

"But, I'm not going to kill you," Aedan continued.

The blood mage's head snapped up. "What?"

"Lilyth has told me a little about life in the Circle Tower." Aedan hesitated, remembering his conversation with her the previous night, after the demon had been killed and the castle had quieted down. He had never thought about life in the Tower—like most Andrastrians, he had always accepted the mages' imprisonment without comment—but Lilyth had spared him no details, telling him about the rituals to turn a mage Tranquil, about the constant watch and abuse of the templars, and even about young children dragged from their parents for the sole crime of being born.

"I cannot," he said, "sentence you to death for trying to escape such a life. You were wrong to poison Arl Eamon, but I know the crimes that Loghain has committed, and I can't help but think that he took advantage of your fear and desperation."

Jowan looked far from pleased at the thought of surviving; on the contrary, he seemed almost _more _fearful. "Please, don't send me back to the templars. They'll make me Tranquil; I would rather die than live like that."

"I'm not going to do that either. I'm letting you go." Aedan turned to Morrigan. "Can you melt this lock?"

The witch nodded—trying unsuccessfully to hide her surprise—and stepped forward, holding her graceful hands over the lock. A small curl of flame spread in her palm and swept around the lock before melting it off of the bars.

She stepped back and Aedan opened the cage, handing the fresh clothes to Jowan. "Change into these. You're going to have to leave Redcliffe, and I'm afraid you can't go with us." He watched as the blood mage slipped into the new clothes. "I told Teagan that I would execute you and that Morrigan would burn your body. To the world, you'll be dead. Take another name and hide your magic."

He pointed down the corridor. "There's a secret passage out of here; once you get out, you're on your own. That's all I can do for you. You'd better make sure I don't regret this."

"You won't," Jowan promised. Color flushed into his pale cheeks. "I... I don't know how to thank you." Aedan waved aside his gratitude, and the blood mage gave him a tired smile before rushing down the corridor.

Soon, he was out of sight, and Morrigan gave Aedan an interested look. "You have a curious way of choosing who to kill and who to help."

Aedan shrugged. "I know. But, I've never thought about what life is like for you mages. Always having to hide your talents or risk being taken and shut away in a stone tower. And, I don't feel that Jowan is an evil man. I think he's just a fool who was taken advantage of."

He'd never admit to her that the unexpected mention of his family had made him sick to his soul of death, that he had a strange need to save at least one person, if he could. With the Blight looming over them, it was only going to get worse, and he didn't want to admit that he was already tired of it.

Thankfully, however, Morrigan nodded as if his words made quite a bit of sense to her, and let the matter go. The two of them left the dungeon and walked back up to Eamon's study to tell Teagan that Jowan was dead.

oOo

"I wonder where you are going, my lovely Warden," Zevran mumbled quietly to himself as he silently crept, unnoticed, a few paces behind Lilyth. He was hidden in the shadows, and was able to keep an eye on her as she strode purposefully down the large hallway; hands on her hips, long hair swinging in agitation.

He had been watching her in the library, where she and Morrigan had shut themselves away from the rest of the castle to read those books they seemed so fond of. Zevran, who was highly skilled in stealth and could hide from almost anyone if he chose to do so, had watched as Lilyth had spent hours running her hand down the spines of hundreds of books, seemingly searching for something specific, all the while playing with that exquisite crystal she wore around her neck.

He had seen Aedan enter the library and ask for Morrigan to follow him and, after they had been gone for only a few moments, he had seen an elven servant approach Lilyth nervously. The servant had whispered something he couldn't hear, but he had noticed the surprise and annoyance on Lilyth's face, and had decided to follow her.

Zevran wasn't sure what to make of her, this beautiful blood mage who scowled at everyone and everything with a hard look in her eyes that he recognized well. He had seen it on so many of his fellow Crows and knew it to be the look of someone who had accepted the reality of a cruel world. It was the look of one who viewed the world with a constant eye out for their own gain, who trusted no one, and shrouded their thoughts under a veil of charm. He knew it well, for it was the same look he saw whenever he gazed into a mirror.

But, Lilyth was no assassin, and so he could not understand her as he did the Crows. She had been trained—and possibly raised—by a woman named Mistress Brinna, but Zevran did not know who she was. The fact that Lilyth referred to this woman as Mistress, rather than saying her name by itself, told him that this woman had once owned her. At first, he had thought that Brinna might be a Madame, for it would explain Lilyth's intense desire to be left alone, and the way she unconsciously stiffened when someone moved too close.

However, Lilyth had claimed that this Brinna had been the one to teach her her blood magic, and Zevran could not see why the owner of a brothel would teach her whores such powerful spells. Surely a Madame—such as the one who owned the whorehouse Zevran himself had once lived in—would want her whores to be weak and, therefor, easier to control.

Lilyth was no stranger to the art of murder; he did know that. From what Aedan had said, the two of them had only been Grey Wardens for a few short weeks before Zevran had attacked them; no one would have become accustomed to looking so casually at death, as Lilyth did, in that time. Clearly, death was nothing new to her. Perhaps she had been something like a bard? Orlais was notorious for them and, though Zevran had never heard of Fereldan bards, it was not impossible to think that an Orlesian bard might have set up shop, so to speak, in Ferelden, and pass on her training.

The only other thing that Zevran was sure of was that he didn't trust Lilyth. At first, when she had asked Aedan to spare his life, he had thought that she might wish to use him for the skills he had picked up in the whorehouse. His first impression had been that Lilyth was a woman who knew her own mind, and had learned to take pleasures where she could. It was not such a terrible idea; she _was _quite a beautiful woman, and he certainly didn't mind the thought of sharing her bed. But, he had quickly learned that his first impression had been wrong. Lilyth, although presenting an outward appearance of arrogance and detachment, had too much anger bubbling beneath the surface. In fact, rather than merely refusing him when he had offered the suggestion of spending a night with her, she had been positively indignant.

She had been able to distract Berwick easily enough, so it stood to reason that she was experienced with manipulating others, but it seemed to Zevran as though she was still bitter about something. Rather than accepting life for what it was, a mentality he had adopted long ago, she looked as though she was angry at the injustice of the world.

He was determined to find out what she was so bitter about; if he could discover that, perhaps he could learn her reasons for asking Aedan to spare his life. Zevran _did_ know enough to know that it had not come from the goodness of that chunk of ice she called a heart; she must have some sort of ulterior motive in mind, and he wanted to know what it was. She _was_ a blood mage, after all. Though the danger of that almost made her seem _more_ attractive—Zevran had a fancy for dangerous women who presented a challenge—he was not stupid. He had felt the power behind her blood magic when she had killed Isolde and, for all he knew, Lilyth was planning to one day use _him _for such a ritual.

He had heard her say that she had no intentions of ending the Blight with her fellow Wardens. He knew that when they reached Denerim, she planned on finding and destroying her phylactery, so that the templars could not track her. Was that why she had wanted Zevran to live? Was she keeping him as an option, in case she needed his blood to help her fight the templars? If so, she would find that he was far from a willing victim.

In that instance, at least. In certain other situations, he rather enjoyed playing the role of a willing victim.

Lilyth came to a large door at the end of the hallway, still unaware that he was following behind her. Zevran recognized the area as where Eamon and Isolde's rooms were. Lilyth knocked on the door once and, without bothering to wait for a response, tossed it open and stormed in. "I was told by one of your pathetic servants that you wished to speak with me," he heard her say.

Curious as to who she was speaking with, Zevran, still concealed in the shadows, crept to the door and peeked around to see Lilyth with her back to him, hands on her hips, standing in front of Connor, the little boy who had been possessed.

The young boy seemed nervous to be speaking with her; he twisted his hands together anxiously and kept his eyes on the ground. "Um, yes, I did. I... I didn't know where you were, so I asked one of the servants to come find you. The healers said I shouldn't leave my room for another day or so, until I've rested, so I couldn't find you myself." He seemed to realize he was babbling; he lifted his head and took in a deep breath. "I... wanted to thank you."

It appeared as though his words had caught Lilyth off guard. Her arms dropped to her sides and Zevran saw her head tilt. "What?"

"Well, Father says that it's good to thank the people who help you. I tried to thank your friend, Aedan, but he told me that you and the other woman—I can't remember her name—were the ones who got rid of the demon."

Connor looked down at his feet. "I know what... what happened to Mother. But... I know that she was the one who asked that you use your... magic." Zevran almost felt sorry for the boy. It was clear that he was trying to keep himself steady, but the pain of his mother's loss had obviously hit him hard. "Did... did she say anything before she... died?"

"If she did, I did not hear it," came the short reply. Zevran was intrigued, but not wholly surprised, at her answer. When they were preparing for the ritual, he had heard Isolde ask Lilyth to tell Connor that his mother loved him; Zevran knew perfectly well that Lilyth had heard her, too. What was the purpose of lying to the boy?

"I... I see," Connor said. His shoulders slumped, as if Lilyth's words were hard to hear. Zevran couldn't help but feel a bit of irritation at the blood mage. It was true that he had done some horrible things in his own life, but he had never intentionally harmed a child. It was a cold person who could see a little boy defeated like that and feel nothing.

But, then Lilyth did something strange. She drifted over to a chair by the table and sat down, turned so that Zevran was able to see only the profile of her face. She gestured that Connor should sit down opposite of her and, when the boy obeyed, she leaned forward. "Have you never had someone close to you die?" Her tone, while still somewhat sharp, seemed to be a bit more relaxed.

Connor clenched his fists on his knees and stared down at them. "No, I haven't. Well... Father is sick, and Uncle Teagan says that he might not survive his illness. And Mother..." Zevran could see that the boy was desperate to speak with someone. He had just lost his mother, and his father was deathly ill. Zevran guessed that he had no playmates of his own, and no one to speak with at all except for the servants, who could never actually be his friends. It was obvious that he was afraid and in pain, and Zevran almost wished he could tell Connor that Lilyth was certainly not someone to run to for comfort.

But, that would mean revealing his presence, and he wouldn't risk that. So, without anyone to warn him that the woman he was speaking to would probably make the situation worse, Connor raised his head. "Um, so you're a mage then, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Do you... like it? Being a mage, I mean. Jowan didn't teach me much magic, and Mother only wanted me to learn enough to hide it. She was... ashamed of me."

"Then she was a fool," Lilyth said bluntly. Connor stared at her in shock and Lilyth raised a white hand. Little flakes of what looked like snow and ice began to dance from her palm and swirl around her wrist, like a miniature blizzard. "Mages are the only ones who can shape our thoughts into reality. With the wave of our hands we can create a storm of lightning, or paralyze an enemy. We can summon a cloud of locusts and even move the earth itself."

The little boy seemed awed at her words. "But, doesn't the Chantry say that magic is the Maker's curse?"

Zevran expected Lilyth to make some sort of harsh comment, as she had done when Ser Perth had mentioned the Maker, but she surprised him. She leaned back in the chair and lowered her arm, cutting off the snow and ice flowing around her hand. "Perhaps you might better ask yourself why your Maker would curse an infant. If magic was truly evil, why should any god inflict that on a helpless child?"

Connor's eyes widened, as if that was a thought that had never occurred to him. "I... I suppose that's true. Do they say that in the Circle Tower?"

Lilyth let out a cold laugh. "Oh, no! I was trained by a very powerful mage outside of the Tower, who taught me to appreciate my gifts. No, the Circle teaches you to be ashamed of your talents. They are afraid of us, and try to teach us to live in fear."

"Oh," the little boy said fearfully. "I'm going to have to go there, aren't I?"

"Unfortunately, I see no other alternative. No doubt your father or uncle will insist on it."

Connor nodded, as if he had expected that, and the two of them were silent for a time. Zevran was beginning to think that Lilyth would leave, but then Connor took in a breath and said quietly, "Um, have you... I mean, you asked me if, before Mother, I had ever had someone close to me die, and... I was wondering if you... ever had that happen."

Zevran saw Lilyth's lips turn down into a slight frown. "I have. My little sister, Letia." For a moment, he had thought that she would turn aside the question, and was intrigued that it seemed she had answered honestly.

Connor looked at her with more interest, as if Lilyth was the only person in Thedas who could possibly understand him. "What happened to her?"

Zevran turned his head so that he might better hear her words; perhaps this was the bit of information he had been looking for.

"She was killed." Zevran couldn't hear any emotion in her voice; it sounded as though she was detached from the memory.

"I... I'm sorry," Connor mumbled. "How old was she?"

"Only five," Lilyth answered, still in that same monotonous tone.

Connor looked both sympathetic and aghast. "How did you... learn to deal with it?"

Lilyth shrugged. "You just do." She stood up suddenly, as if the conversation had gone too far for her liking, and smoothed down the front of her shirt. "Perhaps, if you are smart, you will learn from this experience with your mother and the demon. And, if you are cunning, you will use your time in the Tower to study and cultivate your talents, while never giving in to the Chantry's desire that you learn to hate yourself."

She looked down at the boy. "And, remember this: you cannot rely on anyone else to keep you safe. The world is a dangerous place for the unwary; only those who look after themselves can hope to survive it."

Without another word to the boy, Lilyth turned and drifted out of the room. Zevran stepped back so that she would not run into him, but didn't bother to follow after her. He would have to think on her words, and the bit about her sister. Perhaps, it might help him to understand what she wanted with him. Or, perhaps he could even figure out a way to use _her_ to help him with the Crows.

It was always amusing to manipulate someone who thought they were pulling the strings. And, Zevran always did enjoy a challenge.

oOo

"I still don't understand how you could do that, Aedan; how you could just make that decision yourself," Alistair mumbled irritably, forcing Lilyth to roll her eyes. It was not the first time he had brought up this particular complaint and, though he was no longer shouting at them, it was giving her a headache.

Aedan, who looked more than a little weary of Alistair's constant whining, lifted his head from his cup of wine. "I made the decision because _you _decided that I was the one to lead us. Besides, what would you have had me do, Alistair? We had little time and few options."

"Anything else! There could have been another way other than using blood magic to kill the Arl's wife!"

Lilyth slammed her book shut, her already short patience long gone. It was bad enough that all of her companions had somehow decided to follow her and Morrigan into the library—where the two mages had thought to use the peace and quiet to exchange knowledge of spells—but now they were interrupting her concentration.

Leliana sat at the table with her head down, immersed in her book of poems and songs; Zevran idly twirled the tip of a dagger on the table, pretending boredom, though Lilyth knew he was listening to every word. And, Aedan and Alistair had been going back and forth like two cats hissing on a rooftop for the past hour though, admittedly, Aedan had _tried_ to end the argument. Alistair, however, didn't seem inclined to stop his complaints, and Lilyth was sick of it.

"What other way would you have suggested?" she snapped. "Would you have preferred that we kill a child? Or, perhaps you would have chosen to alert the templars, who would have executed him?"

"Of course he would," Morrigan remarked, never taking her eyes from the book in front of her. "What else would one expect from a templar?"

"What do you think the Arl is going to say when we wake him?" Alistair demanded of them all. "Leaving aside the fact that you used blood magic,we also _killed _his wife!"

Aedan poured himself another glass of wine from the tray the servants had set out for them. "I would hope that he'll understand that there were greater things at stake. If nothing else, I hope he'll realize that Isolde was the one who chose this course of action."

Leliana lifted her head from the book of poems. "It does seem to me that Aedan's decision was a difficult solution to a problem with no good option."

"How can you just sit there and be okay with this?" the ex-templar demanded. "Doesn't it bother you at all?"

Lilyth turned her head to see the sister's reaction, expecting her to behave in much the same way as Alistair. But, Leliana only lowered her head slightly. "The thought of using blood magic to kill a mother _does _sadden me. However, we must remember that Isolde made the choice herself. And, if the decision was between letting her sacrifice herself to save her son, or allowing a little boy to be killed... well, I believe it was the best option to a horrible problem."

Lilyth was mildly intrigued to hear such an opinion. Leliana was a sister of the Chantry; surely she should be preaching about the dangers of blood magic, no matter how it was used?

Even more surprising, her words seemed to have an effect on Alistair. He let out a deep breath, as if to expel some of his anger, and nodded. "It's just... all of this death is starting to bother me. I just... wish there had been another option."

"Well, it's only going to get worse from here," Aedan said quietly. He drained his wine in one large gulp. "Now, I suggest that you all get some rest tonight. We leave for the Circle Tower in the morning."

Everyone slowly got up and began to disperse, heading for their separate rooms. Lilyth had hoped that now she would finally have some peace and quiet to read, and was more than irritated to notice that Zevran, who had sat silently this whole time, twirling the tip of his dagger on the table, remained seated.

When the two of them were alone, and it was obvious that he had no intentions of getting up, Lilyth glared at him. "Do you plan on staying here this whole night?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"_I _am trying to read. You, however, seem to be here for the sole purpose of annoying me."

The assassin seemed to find that amusing. "Is it working?"

"Yes, it is."

"You are so strange, _mi mujer de hielo_," he replied. Lilyth couldn't tell if he was irritated with her or mocking her. "You asked Aedan to spare my life and accepted my promise to serve you, yet you banish me from your presence every chance you get."

"Not that again." Lilyth rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. "Will you never tire of asking me about it?"

"You must admit, it does not seem like something you would normally do."

"Well, if it is any consolation, I quite regret it now," she snapped.

Zevran set down the knife and leaned forward, folding his hands together in front of him. "Then, allow me to change the subject and ask a different question." Lilyth raised her head, curious despite herself. "You have said that you have no desire to help end the Blight, and that when we travel to Denerim you will leave the Wardens, yes?"

"That is correct."

"Well, my question is, what do you intend to do with me when that moment comes?"

For a moment, Lilyth was caught off guard. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that. "Why would I do anything with you?"

"I swore an oath to serve you," he pointed out. "Despite what some people may believe about me, I do try to hold to my promises."

"Yet, you seem to disregard my orders to leave me alone."

Zevran laughed. "It is true, but you cannot blame me for wishing to enjoy the pleasure of your company. I enjoy beauty as much as the next man." He sobered. "But, my question still remains."

Lilyth shrugged and turned back to her book. "I do not intend to do anything with you. When I leave the Wardens, you are free to leave as well."

"I see." He picked up the dagger and began twirling it again, giving the impression of detachment. "And, what if I wished to continue to follow you?"

Once again, his words caught her off guard. Lilyth lifted her head, about to tell him that there was no way he would be allowed to follow her, but then she hesitated. She didn't like him—probably she never would—but he _was _a useful assassin. Her plan was to travel to Tevinter and learn more about the magic of the crystal. Morrigan had said it was a Tevinter-made amulet; surely the Magisters would have the knowledge of how to use it. Perhaps, with their habit of delving into forbidden magics, they would even have a way to cure her of the darkspawn taint.

But, Mistress Brinna was a powerful Magister; even though she lived in Amaranthine, she was widely known and widely respected in Tevinter. She kept a house in Minrathous; her servants might recognize Lilyth and inform their Mistress. It might be good to have someone who was skilled in the arts of stealth and thievery.

"I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "that if you wished to follow me, you might be allowed to do so."

She couldn't tell what Zevran was thinking behind his smile. He stood up from the table. "There we are; an answer to my question. I believe I will try and catch some sleep before we set off for the Tower."

He walked to the door of the library but, on the threshold, turned back to her. "Good night, my lovely Warden. Should you tire of reading these endless books, know that you are welcome to visit my room. My bed would be much warmer with you in it." He winked and shut the door behind him, effectively cutting off her reply, which involved setting fire to certain parts of his body.

When he was gone, Lilyth scowled down at her book, wondering what game he was trying to play. Surely he knew that his smooth words and not so subtle hints would lead him nowhere? He might act like a cheerful idiot, but he wasn't stupid. What, then, did he hope to gain?

Well, it didn't matter. She could always change her mind about him following her to Tevinter. She had more important things on her mind. Grasping the crystal around her neck, she walked through the rows of books, searching for something that might contain information on the human soul.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** It's always seemed weird to me that, if you tell the soldier at Lothering to take a message to Loghain, you never really hear what happened with that. He has a description of the Warden and is told to kill him or her, but then after the first treaty Howe tells Loghain that "It seems some Wardens survived Ostagar" and sends Zevran after you. I feel like Loghain should already have known, if he has soldiers waiting in Lothering, which is why it makes more sense to me for Zevran to attack after Lothering. I feel like Loghain should be trying to get rid of the Wardens from the moment he returned to Denerim.  
><em>

_Lots of thanks to Suilven for her awesome beta work, and for her comments that made me feel much better about this chapter.  
><em>

_A big thank you to Wyl and Ventisquear for their suggestions about the Zevran/Lilyth relationship, which has been a huge help. Also to Josie Lange for the information on where she gets the awesome names for her story!  
><em>

_Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, and requesting alerts. It means so much to me!_


	12. Chapter 12

**XII. Bitter Fruit**

The Lake Calenhad docks were a lot quieter than Lilyth remembered. She had last set foot here when Duncan had taken her away from the Circle Tower—before that, when the templars had first brought her to the Tower, she had been too exhilarated over her father's trapped soul to notice her surroundings—and she seemed to recall that the docks had been bustling with activity. There had been merchants loading goods on to boats to take to the mages, villagers singing songs in the chantry, stable boys taking care of the templars' horses, and farmers making their way to the inn for a drink.

Now, however, the place was very quiet. Lilyth couldn't see or hear anyone, even with her sensitive ears. There was no muffled laughter from the inn, no fishwives standing outside, gutting their husbands' catches; even the stables seemed empty.

Aedan seemed to be thinking along the same lines; he came up beside Lilyth, looking around at the small village. "Is this place always so quiet?"

"Not from what I recall. Perhaps something has happened?"

He nodded to the docks. "There's a templar standing guard over one of the boats; I'll go ask him if something's wrong."

He walked off, and Lilyth noticed Morrigan standing at the banks of the water with Fang, staring off at the Tower. Curious as to why the witch was watching the Circle Tower so intently, Lilyth found herself walking over to her.

Morrigan didn't bother to turn when Lilyth approached. Instead, she let out a deep sigh. "I must admit, I have often wondered what the Tower is truly like. Mother has spoken of it as a place where the mages are corralled like beasts of burden, kept from their true power. Is it truly that bad?"

"It is," Lilyth said shortly. "The templars prowl the halls at all hours, constantly alert to any sign of corruption. They keep a sharp eye on what the mages study and, if they think we are learning suspicious magic, the Knight-Commander is quick to call us into his office to interrogate us."

"What sort of magic is suspect?"

Lilyth shrugged. "Anything that the Chantry sees as powerful or destructive. I once heard of a mage who tried to learn how to create a chain of lightning that would grow in size the longer he held the magic. That mage was called to speak with the templars, who thought that he was preparing to use such magic to escape the Tower. They took away any books on the subject and locked it away so that no other mage could learn it."

Morrigan's lip curled up into a sneer of disdain. "Must we truly go there? Though I have often been curious about it, I am content to remain with my questions unanswered. I would rather not be forced to deal with Chantry fools who would seek to lock me up."

"Do not blame me for this; _I_ would prefer to never again see this horrid place. It is Aedan who insists that we must have the help of the mages."

As if he'd heard Lilyth mention his name, Aedan called them over to where he was gathering the rest of their companions in a small circle.

"Carroll, there," he gestured to the templar standing protectively over the docks, "has finally agreed to take a few of us to the Tower. But, the boat isn't big enough for all of us."

"Then, you will leave some of us here?" Leliana asked curiously.

Aedan nodded, crossing his arms. "After we get the help of the mages, we're going to travel through the Brecilian Forest on our way to Denerim to try and find the Dalish. Leliana, why don't you and Alistair go to the chantry and see if they have a map that can help us plot a route through the forest? That way, we have an idea of where we're going to go."

The sister thought for a moment. "Do you know in which direction we should travel?"

"Not at all. Zevran suggested traveling east through the forest. Isn't that right, Zevran?"

"That is correct," the assassin said. "From what I know of the Dalish, they typically camp deep in the forest, where no humans could ever hope to stumble on their Clans. If we travel east, to the deepest parts of the Brecilian Forest, we should find them. Or, rather, I imagine they will find us before we find their camp."

"Very well," Leliana said. "I will see what we can find."

She pranced off towards the chantry with Alistair following behind; Aedan knelt down and scratched Fang behind the ears. "Fang, why don't you go with Leliana and Alistair? I'm not sure the templars would appreciate having a mabari running around in their halls." Fang huffed once, clearly showing his opinion of the templars, but then bounded off after Alistair, barking and playfully snapping at the boy Warden's heels. They all heard Alistair's shout of surprise, which quickly dissolved into laughter as Fang decided to lower to the ground and shoot off towards the chantry building, showing off his running skills.

Aedan stood up and turned to Lilyth, Morrigan, and Zevran. "You three are with me. Let's get to the Tower and get our allies."

"You do remember your promise, yes?" Lilyth asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "You swore that you would not tell anyone of my blood magic."

"I do," the nobleman said. "Why do you think I chose not to bring Alistair or Leliana? They're the two most likely to accidentally admit what you are."

Lilyth nodded and followed behind the three of them as they walked towards the boat, gritting her teeth. She wasn't afraid of the templars. She wasn't afraid of anyone.

oOo

Carroll took them across the lake easily enough—though he complained constantly about how angry Greagoir would be with him—and Lilyth had to hide a sense of disgust when her boots first touched the cold stone floor of the protruding docks of the Tower. Everything in the Circle was stone; it had been the only thing her feet had touched for nine long years. She remembered well how the cold ground would seep into her shoes, chilling her to the bone. No matter how much she tried to wrap herself up, it never seemed to help.

Zevran climbed out of the boat behind her and saw her glaring at the ground. "Such an unflattering look! Do you not like being home again?"

"This place was _never _my home," Lilyth snapped. "Let us just get what we need and be done with it."

With the others following silently behind, seemingly daunted by the caged feeling of the Circle, Lilyth led the way into the Tower, through the large double doors that were kept shut and locked at all hours of the day, guarded by templars to prevent any mage from escaping.

When Lilyth roughly pushed the doors open–not bothering to wonder why they were unlocked–however, she was greeted by a sight quite different from what she remembered.

As soon as they walked into the first main hall, where the templars stood guard over the entrance and occasionally met to gossip and trade stories, Lilyth immediately saw that the place was in disarray. Boxes, chairs, and tables were overturned and stacked against the large doors that led further into the Tower; templars were huddled into corners of the room—some of them praying, some trying to staunch and dress fresh wounds. And, in the middle of it all, like some dark renegade sent to kill the weak, stood Greagoir, the Knight-Commander of the templars; the man who had overseen the death of so many mages, who had ordered so many others to be made Tranquil.

Ignoring the muttered comments from her companions, who had no clue as to what this chaos might mean, Lilyth marched directly up to Greagoir, hands on her hips. "What is this? Have the templars finally decided to drop all pretense and execute every mage in the Tower?" As soon as the words were out, she cursed herself for the sharpness of her tone. Dammit, she sounded like a mage jumping to the defense of the others.

What happened to these mages meant nothing to her. In her nine years of living in the Tower, she had only ever met a handful of them worthy of her time, but that didn't mean that she cared what happened to them. She certainly didn't care if the templars had decided to kill them.

Greagoir, who had been issuing orders to the other templars, turned at the barb in her voice, his eyes widening. "Lilyth? You're alive! When we heard the news of Ostagar, we none of us dared to hope that you had survived."

Waving aside his comment as beneath her notice, Lilyth pointed to the barred door, where three templars stood with swords at the ready. "You have not answered my question, Knight-Commander. Have the templars finally decided to execute the mages?"

The Knight-Commander seemed taken back at the harsh tone of her voice. Not that she could blame him, really. When she had lived in the Tower Lilyth had been a model of sweetness and innocence, hoping to charm her way into becoming a Senior Enchanter, with the freedom to travel to Denerim and destroy her phylactery. She had been polite and demure, the poor little mage who had witnessed her family's slaughter; a pretty little broken doll to be petted.

Now that she was no longer trapped in the Tower, however, she had no need of such an act.

"You are Greagoir, the Knight-Commander, correct?" Aedan asked, coming up to stand beside Lilyth. "I am Aedan, a Grey Warden like Lilyth. A Blight is on the land and we have come seeking the aid of the mages of the Tower."

Greagoir pulled his eyes away from Lilyth with some difficulty and looked steadily at Aedan. "I'm afraid that you'll find no allies here. There is a situation at hand, and I would ask that you leave this for us to handle."

"What is the situation?" Lilyth demanded. "What have you done to the mages?" It was only practical for her to be angry, wasn't it? After all, Aedan _needed_ mages to help him fight the Blight. Her concerns were nothing to do with the mages she had known; it had nothing to do with the injustice mages were forced to endure on a daily basis. She didn't care about them. The very idea was laughable!

"Lilyth, please, be quiet for a moment," Aedan said, before turning his attention back to Greagoir. "Knight-Commander, I'm afraid we _can't _turn around and leave. We have a treaty signed by one of the Circle's previous First Enchanters, compelling the mages to aid us against the Blight. If the mages are unable to help us, we have the right to know what happened."

Greagoir looked back at the blocked door, shaking his head as if his thoughts were too much for him. "Very well, I will speak plainly: the Tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the halls and I do not have enough men to fight them."

Lilyth could not bother to contain her sharp bark of laughter. Greagoir looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head, and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter but still it echoed against the walls, mixing with the cries of pain and frightened prayers. "Oh, this is too fantastic! That the templars would fail to prevent the _one _thing they are supposed to fight!"

"My men had no warning!" Greagoir defended himself angrily. "One moment, things were normal, and the next, a flood of abominations came rushing down the halls, slaughtering anyone they could find!"

Lilyth raised her head, her smile as sweet as an unripe apple. "Your templars constantly prowl the halls like angry ghosts, snatching mages to interrogate them for simple things, threatening Tranquility if they dare to ask questions, pitting unprepared mages against demons to see if they can resist. Yet, look what all of your efforts have accomplished!"

"Indeed, 'tis a wonder it took so long for this to occur," Morrigan remarked quietly.

Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Both of you, _please _stop talking. Knight-Commander, there must be _something _we can do. The Blight is a real threat that we need help against!"

"I'm afraid there is nothing that can be done," Greagoir said helplessly. "I have already sent word to Denerim, asking if I may perform the Rite of Annulment."

_That _got Lilyth's attention. "You would annul the Circle?" she demanded. "Simply because you and your templars failed in your duties?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Aedan interrupted. "What is the Rite of Annulment?"

Lilyth rounded on him, hands balled into fists at her side. "The Rite of Annulment gives the templars the right to neutralize the entire Circle. They are planning to destroy the Tower, along with any mage inside!"

"What else can we do?" Greagoir retorted angrily. "We don't have enough men to kill all of these abominations. Everything in the Tower must be destroyed so that it can be made safe again!"

Lilyth scowled at Aedan. "You do realize what he is saying, do you not? If he annuls the Circle he will kill every single mage inside. You will _never _get your mage allies."

Aedan shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't let that happen, Knight-Commander. Not while there's a chance that the mages could help us against the Archdemon."

"Then what do you propose? To go in yourselves and destroy the abominations with your own hands?" Greagoir asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

Aedan, however, didn't even hesitate. "If that's what it takes for mages to join us against the Blight, then yes. That's exactly what we'll do."

Greagoir's eyes widened. "I assure you, an abomination is not a small matter. We are not speaking of one or two of them; there are _dozens _of abominations and demons in the Tower. You'll never survive."

"Can you say with absolute certainty that every single mage is already dead?" Aedan asked calmly.

"I... cannot say with certainty, though if any of them _are _alive, the Maker himself has shielded them."

"Then, it seems the Grey Wardens have to handle this." Aedan gestured to Lilyth, Morrigan, and Zevran. "The four of us will go through the Tower and destroy any abomination or demon we see. In return, the mages will aid us against the Blight." He held up a hand to stop Greagoir from arguing. "But, I'm not a _complete _fool. I do know that it may be for nothing. If you are right and the mages are dead then, when the Tower is cleared of abominations, you will agree to lend your templars to join the Wardens against the Blight. Do we have a deal?"

Greagoir thought about it for a moment. "I suppose... that in the absence of any word from Denerim, it is up to me to decide the best course of action. Fighting against the Blight is indeed a worthy cause." He straightened up. "Very well, then. We have an agreement. But, I warn you that once you cross the threshold into the Tower, I will order my men to seal the doors behind you. I will only open them if the First Enchanter himself tells me that the Tower is safe. If Irving has fallen, then the Tower is lost and must be destroyed."

Lilyth didn't bother to stay and see Aedan's nod; she knew he would agree and was already walking over to the doors, sharply ordering the templars to let her inside.

As she was watching them scramble to remove the chairs, boxes, and tables, Zevran came up beside her. "It was quite amusing to watch you puff up in righteous anger, my dear. You do seem very eager to help these mages."

"Nonsense." Lilyth lifted her chin arrogantly, irritated by the amusement glittering in his eyes. "I merely promised to help Aedan with the Blight until we reached Denerim. I am honoring my promise to him." The assassin laughed, as if he didn't believe a word of it, but Lilyth decided that it was best to ignore him.

The doors were opened and Lilyth stormed down the corridor, Zevran trailing behind her with Aedan and Morrigan. When the templars sealed the doors behind them, Lilyth had to repress a ridiculous chill that ran down her spine. She was behaving foolishly; first shouting at Greagoir, and now acting like some frightened child. What was wrong with her? What happened to the Tower—or the mages inside—meant nothing to her. And yet...

The others walked down the corridor but Lilyth paused, putting a hand on the stone wall. She remembered her first night here. She had only been sixteen, little more than a girl, and had finally grown desperate enough to run away from the Mistress.

She had thought that to be one of Mistress Brinna's pets would keep her safe, and it had taken years to see how wrong she was. The Mistress was as hard on her pets as she was on the others, possibly more. When she had taken that young man, another favorite—whose only crime was that he had been to see Lilyth as more than just an ally to be used—and had performed horrible experiments on him to increase his value as a slave, eventually selling him for a high price to a Tevinter Magister, Lilyth had finally realized that she needed to escape.

So, she had run away, before that same fate had been visited on her.

She _should_ have run to another country. She had stolen the crystal amulet from one of her clients; she had had enough money to buy passage outside of Ferelden. But, she had been unable to resist the urge to bring justice to her family. If not for them: her mother, father, and brothers; Letia would not have died. Lilyth would never have been sold to the Mistress. They had deserved to die.

However, by using her magic to kill her family, she had been given no other option than to go to the Tower. She had managed to hide her blood magic well enough—she had even managed to convince the templars that she had used her magic trying to protect her family from an invader—but there had been no way for her to escape. Just like that, after her one giant leap for freedom, she had been caught again.

That first night in the Tower was still fresh in her mind. Daddy's soul had been screaming inside the amulet, begging for release, demanding to know what she had done to him. The templars, unable to hear the screams of rage, had shown her to her room where she was to sleep with a number of other mages. Lilyth had been wide awake and had instantly put her back against the wall, distrusting this supposed "safe" environment. She had decided to be prepared and alert for anyone trying to sneak into her bed, to take advantage of her slumber.

She remembered Gloria, rising out of bed after the templars had left, coming over to Lilyth with her hands up and a sweet smile on her face. Gloria, who had sat firmly on the end of Lilyth's bed and asked a string of questions, all of which Lilyth had refused to answer. Finally, Gloria had shaken her head and said, Lilyth could still hear her saying, "I don't know _what_ they did to you, girl, but things'll be all right. The templars are a pain in the arse, and there's a lot about this place that sucks, but we mages try to stick together. And, if you become a Senior Enchanter, you'll be given the chance to get away from here for a while."

"You seem very lost in your thoughts, my dear," a quiet voice said, breaking into Lilyth's memories. She slid her eyes to the right and saw Zevran watching her, for once without a smile on his face. "I think this place means more than you wish to admit."

"It was the first place where I was not attacked," Lilyth said, unguarded for a moment. "I hated every moment I lived here; I despised the other mages and abhorred the templars but, for the first time since I was a child, I could sleep alone in my bed if I chose to." The assassin nodded, as if the significance of her words made perfect sense to him.

"Is it really possible that _every _single mage has turned into an abomination?" Aedan asked, looking around the corridor. His voice, so loud in the silent hall, recalled Lilyth to the present. She cleared her throat and moved away from the wall, refusing to look at Zevran.

"Perhaps," Morrigan commented. "History is littered with stories of slaves rising against their masters."

Aedan turned to Lilyth with a questioning look. "You must know more about this than any of us. Will you be able to tell if a mage is an abomination or not?"

"Why ask me?" Lilyth asked irritably. "I have no more knowledge of demons than Morrigan." The witch laughed, as if amused by some private joke.

"I thought, that with your training outside of the Tower, you might know more about demons," the nobleman persisted.

"Well, I do not." Lilyth was angry and didn't bother to hide it. "I have only ever met a demon once in my life, when the templars pitted me against one to see if I could resist it. My only suggestion is that an abomination will no doubt try to kill us, while an innocent mage might not."

Aedan nodded and led the way down the rest of the corridor. Lilyth trailed behind at a slower pace, scowling at the ground.

"May I ask how you came to live here?" Zevran asked. Lilyth lifted her head, somewhat startled. She hadn't even noticed him walking beside her. "You have mentioned your Mistress before, and she does not seem like a woman who would hand her mages over to the Chantry."

Lilyth was unable to restrain her dark laugh. "You would be correct in your assumption. I left Mistress Brinna's house and was caught by the templars after my family was killed. It was them who brought me to the Tower."

The assassin studied her curiously. "Your family was killed? May I ask what happened?"

"They were... attacked," she said evasively, having no desire to explain her actions. She certainly wasn't ashamed of what she had done—as far as Lilyth was concerned, their deaths were well deserved—but that didn't mean she would willingly volunteer the information to such a sly assassin. She had already said too much.

Thankfully, however, Aedan soon led them into the first room of the Tower, jokingly nicknamed the Control Room, since the doors on the side led to the dungeon where the apprentices' phylacteries were stored. On a normal day, the room was mostly empty, save for a few templars guarding the doors to the dungeon but, in this instance, Lilyth could see that the room was crowded with mages.

"Who are you? I warn you, if you take one step closer I will not hesitate to attack!"

Standing behind Aedan and Morrigan as she was, Lilyth was unable to see the speaker. But, she did recognize the voice. With a hard laugh, she pushed past the two and started forward, smiling at the old woman in front of her, who held a ball of fire in her palm. "Oh, look! I took one step closer. Will you make good on your promise and attack me?" Part of her was hoping that Wynne would actually do so, giving Lilyth the excuse to kill her.

But, no such luck. Wynne released her hold on the flame and scowled at the young woman with intense dislike. "You! What are you doing here? I thought you had turned your back on the Tower."

Lilyth waved a hand dismissively. "Do not mistake my presence, Wynne. I am here with the Grey Wardens, who seek mage allies against the Blight."

Wynne turned her attention to the others. "You are Grey Wardens, then?" Her sharp eyes narrowed angrily. "I warn you, you harbor a viper in your midst."

Aedan, looking a bit caught off guard by the old woman's words, leaned forward and whispered to Lilyth, so that no one else could hear, "Does she know about your magic?"

Lilyth lifted her chin, insulted that he would even ask such a question. "Of course not!" She hesitated. "But," she reluctantly added, "she has always suspected something."

The nobleman nodded and straightened up, apparently deciding to ignore Wynne's barbed comment about Lilyth. "We are of the Grey Wardens, yes, and we are here for our mage allies."

"No doubt you were told that there were no allies to be found," Wynne said heavily, looking around at the mages gathered together. "The templars locked us in here, careless of our fate. But, even so, we have managed to survive, though I don't know how long we can continue to hold out."

"What exactly, happened here?" Aedan asked. "All the Knight-Commander said was that demons and abominations began pouring out of the Tower."

Wynne stiffened. "Let it be enough to say that we had something of a rebellion on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred."

"Uldred?" Aedan repeated, turning to Lilyth. "Isn't that the mage that Jowan said helped him learn blood magic?"

"The very same." She let out a chuckle. "Very clever of him, to turn in a few blood mages and so distract attention from his own rebellion against the Tower."

"You find this amusing?" Wynne demanded. "Blood mages and demons stalk the Tower's halls; half of the innocent mages are dead and the templars will most likely attempt to march through and destroy the rest of us!"

"Why should this not be amusing?" Morrigan asked sweetly, before Lilyth had a chance to comment. "That the slaves would choose to rebel against their masters and so seal the fate of those who choose to blindly obey? I find it _quite _amusing."

Lilyth tried to pull her attention from the knot of small children huddled together in fear; she took a deep breath and deliberately turned to Aedan who gave Morrigan a look that clearly told her to stay silent. No doubt he was regretting his decision to bring both her and Lilyth to the Tower. "It doesn't matter how this happened," the nobleman said. "What _does _matter is that the Knight-Commander has agreed to hold off on the Rite of Annulment, to give us a chance to destroy these demons and abominations."

Wynne looked from him to Lilyth, as if she wasn't quite sure whether or not she should believe his words. But, apparently she chose not to argue, for she simply gestured to the door behind her where, for the first time, Lilyth noticed a magical barrier. "I have erected a barrier over the door, so that nothing could get by to harm the children. However, I will agree to dispel it if you will join me in saving the Tower."

Aedan bridled at her words. "Did you not hear what I just said? That's exactly why we're here. Take down the barrier so that my companions and I can get this handled."

The old woman scowled. "I will only dispel it if I may join you."

"There are children here!" Aedan said, his voice tight with vexation. "You really think it's a good idea to just leave them here while you risk your life in the Tower? No, you will take down the barrier, or we will leave you and your fellow mages to whatever fate the templars have for you. The Knight-Commander has already agreed to lend us his templars if the mages are unable to join us. We have allies either way."

"You would abandon us?" Wynne gasped.

"If you were listening to me, you'd know that I'm _trying _to end this." The nobleman crossed his arms defiantly. "But, I don't want you coming with us. This is going to be a difficult task, and I don't want to waste time wondering if you can keep up, especially when your time is better spent staying here, protecting the others. So, you have a choice. You can either take down the barrier and stay here, keeping the children safe, or, we can leave and tell the templars that we could not cleanse the Tower."

Wynne hesitated for the barest of moments. She glanced around at the mages and children who looked back at her, clearly waiting for her to decide their best course of action. Finally, with a sigh, she waved her staff and the barrier dissipated. "Very well. We will wait here for news. Once you are past, I will erect the barrier again and hold it until you stand on the other side and tell me that the Tower is clear."

Aedan nodded and brushed past her, followed by the other three. As Lilyth walked past Wynne she tossed the old woman a wink and a giant smile. Wynne studiously ignored her. When the four of them were past the door, Lilyth felt the familiar sense of the hair standing up on the back of her arms as Wynne erected the barrier again.

Morrigan looked back into the room with an eyebrow raised. " 'Tis a wonder you did not simply kill her, Aedan. She _did _threaten us, after all."

"I'm not about to kill a frightened old lady, no matter how annoying," Aedan retorted. "I'm a little insulted that you would think so. I just wanted to try and convince her to take down the barrier and let us through alone. I'm sure she's a decent mage but, if she's strong enough to help us get through the Tower, then she should stay there and protect the children, just in case anything manages to get by us."

"I believe that you made the correct choice," Lilyth helpfully volunteered. "She would have been no use to us. She is a healer, it is true, but she has almost no offensive magic. The templars do not like us learning such spells, and Wynne has always been very quick to obey the Chantry."

"If that's the case, you probably just don't want her finding out about your magic," Aedan remarked shrewdly. "Although, I suppose I can see your point. And, to be honest, I'm sick of fighting about it. Alistair isn't jumping down my throat any more—although that's thanks in large part to Leliana—and I'd like to keep it that way."

Morrigan frowned. "I am glad you turned down her offer as well. The last thing we need is another Chantry fool following us about."

Aedan looked at the two women. "Well, it also means that I turned down a mage with healing magic. You both agreed to learn how to heal, didn't you? In a battle, I'd prefer to rely on magic, rather than hoping I can reach a potion before I get run through with a sword" He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I don't know," he said, almost to himself. "Maybe I should have brother her with us anyway; but _someone _does need to stay there and keep the children safe, and she had been doing a fine job of it so far. It seemed like the best option."

Lilyth and Morrigan exchanged a glance—neither of them had taken the time to try and learn any sort of healing skills—and quickly looked away. "There is a large library here," Lilyth finally said. "We can take any book on healing that we find. And," she added, as the thought struck her, "with all the chaos, I suspect Irving's office might be available. I am sure that he has plenty of hidden books with powerful spells we could use."

Zevran smiled at that. "Demons and abominations are running through the halls, yet we will take the time to rob the mages while they fight for their lives?"

Lilyth sniffed arrogantly. "I prefer to consider it payment for our efforts."

Aedan let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "All right. If we get the chance, you and Morrigan can grab some books that you think might be useful. I'm sure we can find a way to carry them without hindering our ability to fight. For now, let's just try to get this over with. The sooner we end this, the sooner we'll have our allies."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** I apologize for the delay in update, although this time it was b/c I was having a hard time with this chapter. It was kind of difficult for me to figure out what to do with Wynne, and I had asked both Pennies and Isabeau for their help. The group is finally getting to the point where they're not shouting at each other every day and Wynne would throw that balance out of whack again. Originally, I had thought to have Morrigan sense that Wynne had brought back something from the Fade, and to have Aedan use that to blackmail Wynne into keeping quiet about Lilyth's blood magic. But, Isabeau pointed out that it might be a bit strange for Morrigan to just randomly sense the Spirit on Wynne (and when I looked back on EoaS I realized how awkward it really was), and Pennies suggested that they didn't *have* to bring Wynne with them. I liked the idea, so I went with that route, although I do owe Suilven a lot for offering her suggestions on Aedan's reasons for not bringing Wynne along. _

_Lots of thanks to Pennies and Isabeau for their help. Normally I let the characters kind of guide where the story goes, and this was one of those instances where I tried to guide them. _

_Tons of hugs and cookies for my awesome beta goddess, Suilven, for patiently going through this and turning a jumbled mess into something readable._

_Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, and requesting alerts! It means a lot!_


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII. Where do People Like us Go**

Dark hands held the bottle of expensive perfume near her neck and chest, delicately spritzing the scent all over her skin; applying just enough so that when she approached her target, he would be immediately enticed by the fragrance.

She took in a deep breath, inhaling the bouquet of the fresh honeysuckle, as comforting as the warm embrace of a beloved sister. If Lilyth closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, she could almost remember the essence of that beautiful golden hair. Whenever she kissed Letia's forehead good night, she remembered catching the fragrance of sunshine and flowers for one fleeting moment before the stench of their home invaded her senses.

She used to bury her nose against that amber hair, wiggling her face back and forth while she had tickled her stomach until her sister had collapsed into delighted giggles. Only then would she whisper good night, after that exuberant young face had been lit up with laughter. _You can't fall asleep with a frown_, Lilyth had always told her. _You don't want to have nightmares, do you? But,__ if you smile before you go to bed, you'll have good dreams._

"Daydreaming again, are we, kitten?"

The low, seductive voice penetrated through her memories like the shriek of a raven in a silent night. Lilyth immediately flung her eyes open and sat up straight in her chair. She looked in the mirror before her, her eyes traveling to the side to see Mistress Brinna standing by the bed, watching her with a look she couldn't read. For a moment, she almost panicked. She hadn't even heard the Mistress enter her room!

"Forgive me, Mistress," Lilyth murmured softly, knowing that to appear humble was the best way to avoid punishment. "I was... momentarily distracted."

Behind her, taking care not to look at either woman, Elita silently twisted Lilyth's thick mane of black hair into elegant knots, fastening them securely with golden pins and exquisite jewels. The Mistress watched her work for a moment, then let out a delicate sigh. "Tell me, kitten, what it was that held your attention so raptly." Her words were warm and inviting, but Lilyth didn't miss the shadow that crossed over her dark eyes.

She opened her mouth, a lie on the tip of her tongue, but then hesitated. Mistress Brinna could sniff out a lie faster than a cat searching for a mouse. "I was... thinking of my sister, Mistress."

The magister raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Again?" She twisted her gold curls around a bejeweled finger and shook her head regretfully. "What must I do to erase these thoughts from your mind?" she asked, almost as if to herself. "Do you miss your sister so much that you cannot be happy with the life I have given you?"

She waved carelessly at Elita, who instantly took her hands from Lilyth's hair and silently retreated to the back of the room, desperate to get away before the storm broke out over their heads. Lilyth felt as though a cold clamp had wrapped around her stomach as Mistress Brinna came up behind her and put her hands on Lilyth's bare shoulders. Her gown for the evening was cut low enough to show the sharp contrast between the pale skin of her shoulders and collar and the dark red of the dress; normally, Lilyth enjoyed wearing such beautiful clothes but, at the moment, she would have given a fortune to be fully covered.

She looked in the mirror and met Mistress Brinna's eyes. The Mistress bent down so that their faces were level. "Look at you, kitten. Clothed in the finest velvet and silk, with jewels in your hair and expensive perfume on your skin. _I _have done this for you. If not for me, you would be dead at the hand of some templar."

"I am... grateful, Mistress," Lilyth whispered.

"It seems you are not, for look! You still think of your sister. You cannot turn your mind from the past." Mistress Brinna's sharp nails dug into Lilyth's shoulders. "I have made you one of my favorites, kitten, and this is how you show your love for me?" Her nails sunk deeper, piercing the skin.

Lilyth, who knew what was coming next, bit her lip so that she wouldn't cry out. There was no escaping punishment. Mistress Brinna dug her nails into Lilyth's flesh until she began to bleed; in the mirror, she saw the Mistress' smile widen, and watched her own face pale.

Then, the real pain began. The Mistress only needed a small amount of Lilyth's blood to work her terrifyingly powerful magic. Lilyth winced as what felt like liquid fire shot down her body, burning her from the inside out. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to fall; she heard herself whimpering as the Mistress used her magic to heat Lilyth's blood. The blaze traveled down her legs, through her stomach, and up her throat. Soon, even breathing was painful.

Hot tears prickled in the corners of her eyes, but Lilyth refused to let them fall. To cry was to invite even more pain; Mistress Brinna hated it when her pets sobbed and begged for mercy. She liked to watch them struggle to keep their faces expressionless.

Lilyth felt like she was being seared alive, as if she was standing in the middle of a blazing fire. After a few minutes—minutes that felt like a lifetime—she dimly became aware of cool lips pressed against her burning ear. "It hurts me when you turn your mind to the past, kitten."

"F-for-give... m-me..." Lilyth heard herself croak.

Slowly, the pain began to recede. Mistress Brinna withdrew her hands from Lilyth's shoulders and watched silently as Lilyth slumped back in her chair, coughing and gasping for breath. Lilyth found that her hands were clenched so tightly to the arms of the chair that her knuckles were white. It took every ounce of determination to force herself to relax, to show a neutral and calm face to the Mistress. Sweat poured down her forehead and her arms and legs were shaking violently; she felt like she was going to be sick.

"I trust you will not repeat the offense?" Mistress Brinna asked sweetly. Lilyth jerked her head in something of a nod, and the Mistress waved Elita forward. "Clean her up, and do it swiftly. She has an important night ahead of her."

Her dark eyes slid to Lilyth and, when she next spoke, she was all business. "As we speak, my loves are preparing to invade Elyan's house. I trust you can keep him busy enough for them to find his papers?"

Though it was posed as a question, Lilyth knew there was only one answer. She lifted her chin haughtily, as if she wasn't still shaking from the memory of that terrible pain, and smiled with all the confidence she could muster. "Of course, Mistress. He is, after all, only a man."

As Mistress Brinna smiled—she adored it when her pets were arrogant about their targets—something strange happened. Lilyth blinked, and for a split moment it seemed as though her room, with its light blue walls, stuffed couches, and giant fireplace, was gone. For the barest of seconds, Lilyth had almost thought she was in an open area with... well, she didn't really know. The image was gone too swiftly for her to make sense of it.

She must be seeing things, after the pain of her punishment. Lilyth blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind before Mistress Brinna noticed her distraction, but the same thing happened again. For a brief moment, her room disappeared and she saw nothing but mist.

"What is...?" Lilyth jumped to her feet and immediately winced as a sharp pain shot up her calves. She stumbled and almost fell, but the pain only increased her confusion. Why were her feet so sore? It didn't make any sense; since when did her feet hurt?

Elita turned a frightened look toward Mistress Brinna, who only smiled serenely. "Kitten? What on Thedas do you think you are doing?"

The sharp hint of a threat was clear in the Mistress' tone but, instead of growing afraid, Lilyth scowled at the woman. Something here wasn't right.

In fact, now that she was actually paying attention, she could feel an ominous hum chime somewhere deep in her mind, warning her to get away. She winced, rubbing her temple, and grasped the crystal around her neck. But, at that gesture, she checked herself.

The crystal... She had stolen it from Elyan, and that disgusting bastard had died that same night. So, how could she be preparing to seduce him when he was already dead?

Yes, something was definitely wrong here. Lilyth raised her head and met Mistress Brinna's dark eyes. It took a lot of her willpower to glare so intently at the woman who had once owned her life, but she felt confident that whoever this woman was, she wasn't Brinna. Lilyth had run away from that world; the memories snapped back to her as swiftly as if she were watching a play of her life.

"Who are you?" she demanded sharply. Elita started forward as if to grab at her, but Lilyth, in no mood for games, held out a hand and sent out a chain of lightning. The energy charged at the woman, shooting up her spine; Elita gasped and crumpled to the ground, shrieking in agony as the lightning stampeded through her veins and the life was forced from her body.

Lilyth's hair fell from the knots, tumbling down around her shoulders, and she noticed that her body suddenly felt lighter. She stole a quick glance down and saw that her dress was gone. Instead, she was wearing her normal pants and leather tunic. And, at that simple change, everything came rushing back to her.

She was in the Circle Tower, for she was a Grey Warden who had come seeking mage allies for Aedan's army against the Blight. She remembered that the Tower was being attacked by mages and demons, and the templars were going to destroy the Circle if Irving had fallen.

"So, you remember," the false Brinna said with a smile. "Well, it is of little consequence. The only thing that _does_ matter is that, to you, I am your Mistress."

"No!" Lilyth practically screamed. "I do not belong to _anyone_!"

"Whistles in the dark," the fake magister replied carelessly. "Protest all you wish, but you know as well as I that you cannot escape. Brinna's hold on you is strong, even now."

Lilyth didn't care to hear any more. This was nothing but a false dream; it wasn't real. She remembered a demon that had confronted them in the Tower, and had told them to go to sleep. She recalled that they had been unable to fight it. No doubt that demon had trapped them in the Fade. Though she had previously only met a demon once in her life, during her Harrowing, she knew how they worked. She knew how some demons tried to entice their victims with images it thought they could never escape.

Well, how wrong this demon was. Clearly, it didn't recognize Lilyth's fortitude.

Without bothering to say another word—there was nothing of value that the false Mistress could say—Lilyth grabbed the knife from her belt and, before the fake woman had time to react, dove at her and plunged the blade deep into her throat.

She couldn't hold back the feral smile that crossed her face as the woman's blood washed over her hands. This woman might be nothing more than a false imitation, but she looked so much like Brinna. How many times had Lilyth imagined killing her?

The Mistress' copy grabbed and scratched at Lilyth's elbows, desperately trying to push her arms away; Lilyth's only response was to smile wider and thrust the blade in deeper. Soon, the woman's arms fell to her sides and she slumped over.

As Lilyth let her drop to the ground, the smile began to slip from her face. The room around her—which had looked so much like her room in Brinna's estate—began to flicker and shift, soon disappearing completely. Lilyth found herself standing in an open area that looked like some sort of ancient ruin. Crumbled walls and broken columns were everywhere, and the only scenery was a thick blanket of mist that obscured everything past the shattered walls.

Strangely, instead of feeling pleased that she had managed to escape the nightmare, Lilyth felt a burning sense of anger rise up her stomach. Her hand was curled around the hilt of her dagger; when she looked down, she found she was clutching it so tightly that the grooves were digging into her skin. She slid the blade into the sheath against her hip, reminding herself to take deep, steadying breaths.

How many times would she be forced to endure this? She had _escaped _Brinna! Why was she still haunted by her at every turn?

A half-destroyed column stood next to Lilyth. As her thoughts grew darker and darker, she twisted around and slammed her right fist into the stone with all the force she could muster, careless of the skin on her knuckles ripping and bleeding. Pain lanced through her hand as the bones in her fingers snapped from the impact of her flesh connecting with stone, but Lilyth felt nothing.

Dammit! What was the point of _any_ of it? She had gotten away from Brinna! She had finally found the courage to run away, after eight years of torture! Why, _why_ was she still haunted by the past? She had escaped the woman; why couldn't she escape the memories?

Her breathing grew heavier and heavier; she turned around and leaned against the column, slowly sinking to the ground. With no one around to witness her disgrace, she closed her eyes and let the tears run down her cheeks. Her throat grew tight and hot as she swallowed back the sobs that threatened to escape.

Letia was dead. Killed by their father, who had then sold Lilyth to Brinna to prevent her from telling anyone what had happened. Her mother and brothers hadn't done a thing. There had been no one to lift a hand in defense of either girl.

What was the meaning of any of it? What was the purpose of a little girl, only five years old, being killed by her own father because he was too far into the drink to realize that he could hit too hard? What was the point in Lilyth, only eight years old, being sold to a whorehouse to get her out of the way?

There _had _to be a reason for it.

Lilyth lifted her head and scowled. Of _course_ there was a purpose. If she hadn't been behaving like some sort of foolish idiot, she would have remembered it straight away. Letia's death had been an accident, and Lilyth had been sent to the Mistress so that she could learn powerful magic that would help her bring her sister back. Why else would she have found the crystal that allowed her to trap their father's soul, if not for the purpose of giving Letia back her life?

She swept the back of her hand over her face, impatiently brushing aside the weak tears. _Stop acting like a child_, she commanded herself. She was Lilyth Surana, a powerful blood mage who had learned to endure the darkness of life without flinching. She certainly was _not _a weak woman who crumpled into tears at the slightest bit of difficulty.

With a deep sigh, resolutely turning her mind from her foolish doubts, Lilyth climbed to her feet, wincing as she put her right hand on the column to steady herself. Dammit. That hit to the stone certainly hadn't been one of her smarter ideas. She stood up and gently tried flexing her hand. She could move her wrist and thumb—though it was extremely painful—but her fingers didn't move at all. She must have broken the bones. And, with a grimace, she realized that there was nothing she could do about it.

During their hike through the Tower, with the Circle in such disarray, Lilyth and Morrigan had taken the opportunity to sneak through Irving's unguarded office, and had discovered quite a few books that might help them. They had found a number of powerful healing spells—in addition to one extremely valuable book that explored forbidden Tevinter magic—but, with their task ahead of them, Lilyth hadn't had any time to look through the books. And, her knowledge of healing was almost nonexistent.

It was true that, in the Tower, every mage was forced to study at least the basics in almost every school of magic, but Lilyth had been disinterested in healing magic and hadn't paid much attention. She could heal a minor cut if she really worked at it–which was all that had been required of her to learn–but, for something like a broken hand, she didn't know what to do. And, if she tried to heal it without the knowledge, she risked causing permanent damage.

Well, there was nothing to do. She'd just have to deal with her broken fingers until she could find something to bind them. She didn't need her right hand to cast spells; her left hand was just as good.

Unfortunately, however, she also realized that she would be unable to hold her dagger.

Lilyth had never been formally trained in combat. She carried a dagger to use her blood magic, and she could defend herself well enough if an enemy got too close. It didn't take much skill to stab someone, but she had never really been trained in close fighting. As a result, she could barely _hold_ her dagger in her left hand, let alone use it.

She could still use her magic, of course, but it occurred to her that perhaps she should try to learn how to use her dagger as an actual weapon, rather than just as a tool for her magic. Because, as it was, she was at a serious disadvantage right now. Alone, without her companions to occupy an enemy's attention, if she was attacked by another demon, she would have to hope that she could cast her spells quickly enough to avoid damage. Otherwise, she could be severely hurt.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. If she was attacked, she would just have to deal with it as best she could.

Lilyth looked around the area and, for the first time, noticed a glowing pedestal set a few feet away from her. Curious, she walked over to it and saw strange glyphs carved around its rim. Perhaps, this was a way out? The few times she had visited the Fade had been intentional; she had never before been trapped by a demon and didn't know how she was supposed to travel through the Veil.

Logic stated that she would have to kill the demon responsible for her dream before she could escape. She reached out and touched one of the glyphs; a thick white mist emanated from the pedestal and began to flow around her. Maybe, this would take her to the demon. Then, she could kill it and be on her way.

She had had _more_ than enough of this place.

oOo

The first thing Lilyth noticed, when the white mist cleared from her vision and she got a good look at where the pedestal had sent her, was that this was probably _not _where the demon was.

Truth be told, she didn't _really_ know what type of place the demon would reside in—she did know that it was powerful enough to create any environment it might wish—but, somehow, she highly suspected that a balcony overlooking a beach was not such a place.

Intrigued and momentarily distracted from the pain in her hand, Lilyth walked over to the rail of the balcony and looked down at the beach below. She had never before seen such a beach. The closest she had ever come were the docks in Amaranthine, but they had been crowded and disgusting; reeking of fish, sweating bodies, and garbage.

Here, however, the air was almost clean. She could smell the hint of salt on the warm breeze, mingled with something tangy. The ocean below her sparkled like a precious sapphire; the rays of the sun danced off the dark water with a dazzling brilliance that almost blinded her.

Despite being somewhat drawn into the beautiful scene, however, Lilyth turned from the balcony with a huff of impatience. No doubt she was in another dream. Aedan, Morrigan, and Zevran had been with her when the demon put them to sleep. Perhaps, the pedestal had sent her to one of their dreams.

If that was the case, Lilyth would be even more angry than she already was. It had been bad enough to endure her _own_ dream; why should she have to deal with the others?

A ripple of low, feminine laughter reached her ears. Lilyth looked around and saw a wide door opposite of the balcony that opened into a small room. Strange, she hadn't noticed that before. Unable to think of anything else to do, she followed the laughter inside of the room, to a scene that certainly did nothing to improve her dark mood.

The room itself seemed quite cozy, if a bit plain to her eyes. The walls were made of some sort of brown stone she didn't recognize, and there was a decent sized bed in the corner. The bed was littered with knives, bows, and arrows, which looked as though they had been tossed on it carelessly, and on a small shelf next to the bed stood a handful of vials filled with colorful liquid.

On the other side of the room was Zevran, standing with his back to her, leaning over a dark wooden table, apparently grinding something in a small bowl. Next to him was a slim elven woman with cropped black hair. Lilyth couldn't see the woman's face, but by the way she occasionally leaned over Zevran's shoulder to giggle and comment on what he was doing, it was clear that they were rather close.

Tch. _This _was what he was doing? While the demon had trapped them in the Fade and had continued to attack the Tower, _he_ was content to ignore reality and spend his time flirting with some woman who wasn't even real? Lilyth pursed her lips in annoyance, conveniently forgetting that she, too, had been fooled by the dream for a time.

"I would have thought that you were smarter than this, assassin," she growled.

The two of them turned at Lilyth's voice, and Zevran frowned. "Are you the one Master Amidio promised us?" There was no sign of recognition on his face as he looked her over. "I suppose you will do, though you look as though you barely know which end of a dagger to hold."

The woman next to him waved a dark hand dismissively, her lip curling up into a sneer. "It doesn't matter. She's only here to offer a distraction, and any fool can do that. Whether she survives or not isn't important."

Lilyth clicked her tongue impatiently, her vexation growing with each word these two idiots spoke. "Enough of this nonsense. Zevran, it is time to leave. I have more important things to do than chase down the dreams of a failed assassin too foolish to see when a demon is toying with his mind."

The woman's beautiful face twisted into a scowl. "Mind your tongue, girl, or you'll soon find it slit from that pretty little mouth." She reached across the table and picked up a small knife, as if to drive her point home.

"I do not waste my time on weak demons," Lilyth retorted sharply, unimpressed by the demon's pathetic attempt at a threat. She turned to Zevran, who was leaning against the table with an amused smile on his face. "Clear that idiotic head of yours, and see this for what it is: a dream!"

The assassin laughed. "A dream? Yes, I suppose you could call it that." He looked between Lilyth and the woman. "Two beautiful women close to a deadly fight, right in front of me... that _is _quite a dream, no?"

Lilyth had to fight the intense urge to set his stupid hair on fire. Her broken hand was sending throbs of pain up her arm; she was angry and hurting, and the last thing she felt like doing was spending time trying to convince Zevran that this dream wasn't real. She just wanted to find this demon, kill it, and get out of this place.

But, there was a small part of her, irrational as it was, that didn't want to turn around and just leave him here.

"Zevran Arainai," she said, her words clipped, "you swore to be my retainer, to do as I say and follow my orders." She took in a breath. "And I say wake up from this dream _now_, or I swear I will leave you here to whatever fate the demon has in store for you!"

The assassin's face darkened with each word she spoke. His hands twitched towards his daggers, as if he might bring them out and attempt to attack her, though, in her current mood, Lilyth almost didn't care if she was forced to kill him or not.

But, before he reached his blades, he hesitated. His head tilted to the side and he looked her over quizzically. "You know, there _is _something familiar about you. I feel as though I know that cruel voice."

The woman instantly reached out and wrapped her long hands around Zevran's arm, pulling him close. She rested her head against his shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Lilyth. "She is nothing! An arrogant woman who overestimates her abilities and will soon be dead. We have seen plenty of men and women like her; you know her words are beneath our notice."

Zevran, however, still looked somewhat troubled. "No, I am... certain that I know her..."

Lilyth sniffed arrogantly. "Of course you know me. You attempted to kill Aedan and myself, and then agreed to follow my orders when I spared your life." She shifted her arm and immediately winced as a fresh stab of pain shot through her wrist. "Now, either kill that demon latched to your arm or I shall do it for you."

The woman's black eyes widened. "Why do you stand there and let her talk of my death, Zevran? You have killed men and women for less."

But, Zevran pulled away from her as if didn't want to be near her anymore; instead, he stared at Lilyth as if he had never really seen her before. "I _do _know you. You are..." He trailed off and rubbed his forehead. "I can't remember who you are... but I know you."

Lilyth let out a tut of impatience. "Unfortunately, I am a Grey Warden."

The assassin nodded slowly. "That's right. You are a Grey Warden, and I was sent to kill you. I remember that... and a Tower with demons..."

"It is about time," Lilyth said. "Your refusal to listen to me was getting to be quite annoying."

Zevran didn't seem to even hear her. "I remember more..." He turned to the black-eyed woman with a dark look. "You are not real."

The woman stared up at him pleadingly. "Does it really matter?" She reached out and grasped his hand tightly. "You can stay here, with me. You don't have to worry about the Blight, the Crows seeking revenge, or anything! You can have peace! Don't you want to stay with Rinna?"

"Rinna is dead," Zevran said quietly. "To pretend otherwise is foolish."

Lilyth turned her head to the side, glaring at the wall so that she didn't have to see Zevran staring down at the dark woman. His words were so reminiscent of her own whispered ones from long ago. She could almost hear herself reciting them over and over when she had been young and hadn't been able to accept that Letia was gone.

"Zevran," Lilyth said, still not looking at him, "that woman is a demon. She will not listen to anything you have to say. The more you speak to her, the more control she has over you. You must kill her."

"You would kill me again?" she heard Rinna whisper.

With her head turned to the side as it was, Lilyth was unable to see Zevran's face. The silence stretched out for a few moments before she heard the familiar wet sound of a blade sliding into flesh, followed by the harsh thud of a body collapsing to the ground.

When she turned back around, she saw Rinna crumpled on the floor at Zevran's feet. The assassin stared down at her with a look Lilyth couldn't quite read, but then he lifted his head and smiled at Lilyth with his usual, sarcastic grin. "Well! I must say that was quite entertaining!"

Lilyth raised an eyebrow. She wasn't fool enough to believe that he was as cheerful as he wished to pretend, but the pain in her hand was too great for her to care. "You are fine, then? Wonderful. Let us find this demon and kill it so that we may be done with this place."

The assassin studied her for a moment before his smile widened. "Ah, you always disappoint me, my lovely Warden! Here I was, hoping that you would pester me with questions about my past; thereby learning my deepest secrets and falling breathlessly into my arms, charmed by my tragic life."

Lilyth could hear laughter in his voice, and sneered. "If you are fine enough to make pathetic jokes and attempt to flirt, you are fine enough to help me find this damnable demon."

The room around them began to flicker and shift, soon disappearing completely, leaving them in an open area not unlike the one Lilyth had previously been in. Zevran looked around at the mist and ruins. "That is true, although I suppose I should thank you for your help." He tossed her a sly glance. "Especially since it would have been much easier for you to simply leave me in my dream."

The implied question was clear to Lilyth, who scowled. Truly, there were _many_ things about the assassin that annoyed her but, if she were to choose his absolute worst trait, she would have to say it was his continuous habit of bringing up topics she didn't care to discuss.

"No doubt the demon is feeding off the energy of those trapped in the dreams," she replied casually, as if remarking on the weather. "Had I left you here, it would only have given the demon more power."

"Ah, I see. Then, it is good you talked me out of the dream, yes?" He hesitated, as his eyes suddenly caught sight of her wrist. "What did you do to your hand, _mi mujer de hielo_?"

Lilyth looked down at the wound, thoroughly irritated that he had noticed. Although she hadn't really thought to hide it, she hadn't expected him to pay attention to it. Dried blood was caked around the torn skin, and dark purple bruises were painted along her fingers and knuckles, which were beginning to swell. Lilyth tried to flex her fingers and failed, then shrugged as if it didn't matter, ignoring the pain. "I broke it during my fight with the demons who thought to trap me."

"You have not healed it?"

"Are you attempting to taunt me for my lack of healing magic?" she flared, instantly on the defensive. "I hear enough from Aedan; I do not need it from you as well."

Zevran shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I simply intended to point out that if you do not heal it—or keep it bound securely—you run the risk of infection or your bones not healing properly. At the very least, you risk making it worse."

Lilyth's scowl deepened. Instead of admitting that she hadn't really thought about any of that—or that it had been her own stupid fault for breaking it in the first place—she lifted her chin arrogantly. "I do not have anything to bind it. Until we kill this demon, I shall have to just deal with it."

The assassin pressed his lips in a frown, but didn't say anything. Lilyth took the opportunity to change the subject. "Now, are you quite finished wasting time? We must go."

She spotted a glowing pedestal, similar to the one she had used before, set a few feet away from them. Without bothering to wait for Zevran's response, she walked over to it. But, as she approached the shimmering glyphs, a white mist began to swirl around the assassin.

"What is this?" He tried to brush the mist aside but it grew thicker and whirled around him, almost obscuring him from view. "Another trick? You know, I am getting rather tired of this."

The mist pressed closer and closer, until Lilyth couldn't even see him anymore. Then, almost as swiftly as it had come, it was gone. And, so was Zevran. Lilyth stared at the spot where he had been standing. What was going on? Had the demon finally realized that its victims were waking up? Was it trying to trap them again? If so, why did it leave Lilyth alone, but take Zevran?

Well, she supposed that it didn't matter. Zevran was now aware of the demon's trickery. Hopefully, he would keep his wits about him and refrain from being trapped again. Besides, she would have a much easier time without his constant questions and remarks. Yes, she much preferred to handle this on her own, broken hand or no.

She turned towards the pedestal and touched one of the glyphs, firmly turning her mind from the vexing assassin who seemed quite determined to irritate her.

oOo

When the mist cleared from her vision, Lilyth glumly looked around this new area. Once again, her hopes of finding the demon's lair were dashed, as it was quite clear that she was in some sort of tavern. However, instead of the usual rowdy shouting and obnoxious laughter she had come to expect from a bar, this place seemed a lot more subdued. Not only was it far more empty than any other tavern she had seen, but the few people that _were _gathered around tables here and there were rather quiet.

Lilyth cast her eyes around the area, searching for someone familiar, and spotted Aedan sitting at a back table with a man she didn't recognize. Wonderful. Just what she wanted, to be forced to convince yet _another _person that they were trapped in a dream.

Mentally cursing her ill fortune, Lilyth stormed up to the table. She wondered how much damage it would cause to just kill this demon without bothering to speak to Aedan. Would Aedan try to attack her? Possibly, if he was truly convinced that the dream was real. Perhaps, it would be better to actually try to speak with him first. Aedan was a swift fighter, and Lilyth's hand was growing more and more painful by the moment; she didn't care to fight him in this condition.

As she approached the table, the stranger lifted his head and smiled. "Another ale for us both, lass."

Did he honestly think she was some sort of common tavern wench? He did! Lilyth was so angry she could barely see straight. "I suggest you rethink those words," she snarled, unable to restrain her temper. "Not _every _elf is here to serve you!"

"Oh! My apologies!" The stranger flushed a dull red, clearly embarrassed. "I thought... well, I suppose it doesn't matter what I thought. I am sorry; that was rude of me." He looked around the room. "Let me buy you a drink as an apology, while you tell us what it is you wished with us."

Lilyth turned to Aedan, the stranger's apologies falling on deaf ears. He was nothing more than another demon, taking the form and behavior of someone close to Aedan. She should never have spoken to him in the first place. "Aedan, it is time for you to wake up from this dream."

Aedan took a gulp of his ale and regarded her with suspicion. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

Lilyth wanted to scream, to set this whole place on fire and burn everything in sight, which included Aedan. Why couldn't her stupid companions just realize these dreams for what they were? "Of course you know me, you idiot!"

"Excuse me?" the nobleman snapped, rising from the table as if preparing to strike her. "_What _did you just call me?"

"I called you an idiot, for that is what you are if you cannot even see reality!" Lilyth waved her left hand at the tavern around them. "This is the work of a demon, you fool! It is trying to trap us here so that it can siphon off our energy." Her right hand was throbbing so painfully that even moving her wrist sent stabs of pain up her arm; she was beginning to have a difficult time concentrating, which did nothing to help sweeten her temper. "Can you not see the truth in front of you?"

Aedan regarded her with an icy look, his green eyes narrowed dangerously. But, as the two of them stood glaring at each other like two dogs about to tear at each other's throats, the nobleman frowned, his anger being replaced with a look of confusion. "I don't..." He hesitated. "There... _is _something about you that seems familiar."

"I should hope so, considering the fact that you made me swear to help you end the Blight, and you never fail to remind me of my promise."

"The Blight?" The strange man suddenly laughed, as if he had never heard such an amusing joke. "I'd say this woman is a bit addled, wouldn't you, Aedan?"

But, Aedan didn't even turn his head. He continued to study Lilyth with the same confused look. "No... I _do _know you."

Lilyth nodded, trying not to wince as she accidentally jerked her right wrist. "Do you remember the Circle Tower, and the demon that trapped us here?"

"Vaguely," Aedan said with a frown. "As if it were a dream. I... remember something about the mages... and a demon..." He rubbed his forehead and, as Lilyth watched, comprehension suddenly dawned over his face. He jumped away from the table as if scalded, staring at the strange man with wide eyes. "Yes! We're Grey Wardens, here to find our allies! And you're... you're not Fergus!"

"No, he is a demon," Lilyth said.

"Why would you listen to this woman?" Fergus demanded, rising up from the table. "Why should you believe her over what's right in front of you?"

"Oh, enough of this!" Lilyth growled. "I am sick of these demons trying to waste time." She clicked her tongue impatiently. "Snap out of this dream, kill this demon, and let us be on our way. I want to get out of the Fade _now_!"

"Yes, I wonder how I could have forgotten that sharp tongue," Aedan sighed. Reluctantly, he turned to look at Fergus. "You aren't real, but a demon. I can see that clearly now." He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I fell for it at all."

Fergus drew himself up to his full height. "Why would you want to turn your back on this dream? Don't you wish you could forget the Blight and spend eternity with your brother? I can give you that!"

"But, it isn't real," Aedan said heavily. "And, I made a promise to Father." Without another word, he pulled his knife from its scabbard and swiftly stabbed Fergus in the chest. The man dropped to the table, almost breaking it in half, and Aedan lowered his head.

"I am sorry, brother," he said quietly.

After a few minutes of silence, he lifted his head; the tavern around them shifted and began to dissipate. Soon, the image was gone completely, and they were in an open area that Lilyth recognized well. Aedan looked around at these new surroundings before turning a harsh glare to Lilyth. "Do _not _mention this to anyone, understood?"

Lilyth sniffed arrogantly. Really, she had gone out of her way to help him, despite the intense pain of her hand, and _this _was how he responded? True, she hadn't exactly _wanted _to help any of them, but the fact remained that she had still talked him out of the dream. The least he could do was thank her. "I had no intentions of doing so."

"Good." He twisted around, but then stopped and glanced back at her. "Uh... thank you," he said awkwardly, all the anger suddenly draining out of his face. "Look, I'm... sorry, that I snapped at you. I just... can't believe I fell for that image." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I should have seen it for what it was."

Lilyth stared at him blankly. Well, this certainly was a change. What was she supposed to say to that? Was he looking for her to tell him that it was all right? Because, it really wasn't. If he had seen the dream for what it was, she could have already have moved on to the next area and been one step closer to finding the demon.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two of them before Aedan finally looked around and noticed the pedestal. "Let's go find this demon and get us, and the others, out of here." He walked up to it but, before he was able to reach out and touch one of the glyphs, the familiar white mist began to swirl around him. "What the—?" He twisted and tried to get away from the mist, but soon it engulfed him. "Dammit!"

Then, it was gone, and so was he. Lilyth frowned at the spot where he had been. Was the demon really trapping them again? Why hadn't it tried to take her yet? Surely, if it had noticed the others escaping their dreams, it had noticed her as well. Was she going to be forced to fight it on her own?

She looked down at her right hand. The bruises were spreading across the entire back of her swollen hand and fingers, and, with each moment, it seemed to hurt worse.

Dammit, she did _not _relish the idea of fighting such a powerful demon in this condition. If she had to fight it on her own, she was at a serious risk. And, if she died here in the Fade, would she become Tranquil? She knew that that's normally what happened to mages who died in the Fade; since a demon had them trapped, did the same rules apply?

Lilyth grit her teeth, pushing the thoughts from her mind. She reached out to the pedestal and touched one of the glyphs. No matter what happened, she was _not _going to die here.

oOo

The pedestal next sent her to some sort of forest. When the mist cleared, Lilyth looked around in irritation, fervently wishing that this ordeal was finished. This had to be Morrigan's dream—as the witch was the only companion of hers left—so it seemed logical to assume that this was an imitation of the Wilds.

As she was looking around the area, wondering how she was going to find the witch amidst this confusing mess of trees, she heard two women arguing back and forth. Quite certain that one of the women was Morrigan, Lilyth followed the sound to a small clearing in the forest where a pitiful hut sat, looking as though it was about to collapse. And, in front of it, stood Morrigan and Flemeth, bickering back and forth like two cats hissing at one another on a rooftop.

"Why do you not listen to me?" Flemeth moaned, her face over her hands. "I am your mother!"

Morrigan waved the comment aside with a sneer that would have made Brinna proud. "I am not such a fool as to believe that, old woman. You are as much my mother as my little finger here is the Queen of Ferelden."

"Well, I see you are enjoying your dream as much as I enjoyed mine," Lilyth said drily as she approached the two women.

Morrigan twisted around at her voice and smiled in relief. "Ah! 'Tis you at last! Rid me of this vexatious demon at once!"

Lilyth scowled. "If you know that this is a demon, why do you not kill her yourself?"

"Of course I know this is a demon," Morrigan said haughtily. "This ruse is so pathetic even Alistair would have been able to tell."

"And, you have not killed her because...?"

The witch drew herself up to her full height. "I would have done so, had you taken much longer." Her golden eyes narrowed to slits. "However, much as this demon grates me, I did not care to wander around the Fade and encounter even _more _of them."

Lilyth squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temple, unsure if whether her forming headache was due to the pain in her wrist, or her irritating companions. "So, kill her now."

The demon Flemeth widened her eyes in shock and turned to Morrigan. "You would kill your own mother?"

The witch seemed to find that extremely amusing. "Oh, if only you knew!" she said with a laugh. She waved her staff, and the demon was immediately set on fire. Flemeth screamed as her flesh began to burn from the intense heat, but soon enough the shouting stopped. Her body slumped to the ground, and Morrigan stepped away from it with disinterest.

The forest around them flickered and disappeared, leaving them in a clearing much like the others Lilyth had been in. Morrigan turned to her with a smile that was, for once, devoid of any sarcasm. "Finally, that irksome demon is gone. I swear, her constant babbling was giving me a headache." She looked around, spotted the pedestal, and began walking towards it. "I am ready to be done with this place."

As Lilyth expected, when Morrigan reached out to touch one of the glyphs, the white mist began to swirl around her. The witch crossed her arms and looked down at the mist, her face twisting up into its habitual scowl. "Oh, not this again! I refuse to continue these games!"

But, no matter how much she might protest and refuse, when the mist was gone so was she. Lilyth frowned. Morrigan was the last of her companions to be free of the dream. Perhaps, now that they were all awake and aware, the pedestal would finally take her to the demon.

She strongly hoped that, somehow, her companions would find their own ways to the demon. If not, Lilyth would be forced to fight it on her own, a thought she really didn't care for. But, if that was what she had to do to escape the Fade, then she would do it.

She grit her teeth and reached out to touch one of the glyphs, trying her best to ignore the pain shooting up her arm. It didn't matter if her right hand was next to useless. She was a powerful mage; she didn't need both hands to kill the demon.

Then, once it was dead, she could escape this horrid place and forget everything that happened here.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Lots of hugs and thanks to Ventisquear for her suggestion on Zevran's dream. I didn't want to use the standard torture dream and when I asked her for her opinion she's the one who suggested that maybe he should have a pleasant dream. And, I loved the idea of Rinna being there._

_Also, although Rinna's looks weren't really described in detail, in my head I was picturing Vent's version of her, which can be found here (without the spaces):_  
><em> ventisquear. deviantart artRinna- 324079143_  
><em>I just loved how pretty Vent made her! Also, while you're there, you should really take a look around her gallery. It's fantastic; she has such a talent for creating beautiful characters.<em>

_Lots of hugs and thanks to Suilven as well, for waving her awesome beta stick over this chapter and fixing up some my messes. Thank you so much for your help. Your suggestions were, as always, spot on!_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are reading. It means a lot!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Please forgive any mistakes, as this chapter is unbeta'd.**  
>Warning: <strong>This chapter contains a character death at the end._

* * *

><p><strong>XIV. Colosseum of Corruption<strong>

"I _said_ to leave it alone!"

"Andraste's ass, Lilyth! You're being ridiculous!"

"I am not!"

"Look at your hand! It's _purple_!"

"That does not mean that I must sit here like some pathetic invalid!" The blood mage drew herself up to her full height, looking as though she wished she could spit poison. "I managed well enough in the Fade, did I not? _I_ am the one who found all of you, and _I_ am the one who killed the demon of sloth! I should think I can manage a few more hours."

Zevran took care to keep his eyes down as he rummaged through his pack; they would be in for another tantrum if Lilyth were to see how amused he was. Although, he really shouldn't be surprised that she was claiming to have killed that demon. From where he had been, it looked as though she merely got lucky with that spell. Considering that he and the others had severely weakened it first, Zevran would say that all she had managed to do was finish it off. But, of course, he imagined that point would be lost on her.

Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "Lilyth, I don't want to wast time arguing about this."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Then, you will forget about this nonsense?"

"No, I mean you're going to save us all time and just do as I ask." Aedan crossed his arms. "You can stomp your foot and scream like a child all you want, but you know this is the more practical course of action." Before Lilyth could shout out another string of curses like an Antivan fishwife–a thought that almost made Zevran laugh aloud–Aedan quickly added, "You know, we're not planning to clear out the whole Tower. But, Morrigan and I can at least clear out this floor and give your hand a chance to heal."

Zevran pulled out the bandages from his pack and straightened up. He saw Lilyth glaring like an angry cat ready to hiss and spit, and couldn't help but laugh. "Has no one ever told you that your face might freeze if you keep it that way?" She turned her icy gaze to him, and his grin widened.

Aedan took the opportunity to speak. "Morrigan, are you ready?"

The witch, who had remained strangely silent during Lilyth's tirade, turned from the chunks of ice littering the floor–ice she had created–and nodded. "I am."

"Then, come on." The nobleman tossed Zevran a look. "Make sure she stays here, all right? We'll be back after we clear this floor, which shouldn't take too long. You two just stay here and keep the Litany of Adralla safe."

Zevran allowed himself an amused smile. "What do you suggest I do to keep her here? Tie her up? While I admit I would find that quite fun, I doubt our lovely blood mage would enjoy it." He slid a glance at Lilyth who, instead of making her usual angry retort, was instead watching them silently, her face dark.

"I don't care what you do," Aedan said, before turning to Lilyth. "Look, you know as well I do, that if you don't sit here for a moment and let the swelling go down, you're going to end up hurting it worse. And that will make things more difficult for all of us."

Lilyth's scowl deepened, but she remained silent, which they all took as a sign of assent. Aedan let out a sigh, probably relieved that she wasn't arguing any more, and slipped out of the room with Morrigan.

When they were gone, Lilyth slowly sank to the floor. She held herself rigid even as she slid down, but Zevran got the impression that she was more tired than she wanted to admit. He walked over to one of the ice chunks Morrigan had created and hit it with the hilt of his dagger, knocking off a few smaller chunks.

Lilyth sat in a stony, sulky silence as Zevran wrapped the bandages around one of the the smaller ice chunks. He came back to the grumpy mage and handed the wrappings to her. "Keep this on the back of your hand. As Morrigan said, it will help with the swelling."

Without a trace of emotion or gratitude, she took the ice and carefully pressed it against the back of her broken hand. Zevran noticed her forehead twitch as the cold came into contact with her bruised skin.

He sat down a few feet away from her, leaning on the back of his hands, as the silence stretched out between the two of them. Zevran could hear the muffled sounds of fighting through the thick walls, and assumed that Aedan and Morrigan had encountered an enemy. The sounds died down after a few minutes; no doubt they had killed whoever it was that came against them. Morrigan was shrewd enough to recognize blood mages, and her spells were powerful, and Aedan was almost as swift as some of the Crows. Zevran was confident they could handle themselves.

After a time, he glanced towards Lilyth. Uncharacteristically of her, her head was lowered so that he couldn't see her face. "So," he said, in an effort to get her to speak, "tell me why it is that you did not wish to rest and let yourself heal for a few moments?" If he waited too long, Morrigan and Aedan would return, and he would possibly lose his chance to find out certain information.

She lifted her head slightly, and her blue eyes flicked towards him. "Why should I tell you anything?" Her tone was as cold as the ice on her hand.

Zevran shrugged. "You seemed more bitter than anything else. Are you afraid they will kill this man, Uldred, without you?"

"They can do what they like to him, for all I care." If her words before had been cold, now they were positively icy.

"Then, what is it?" Despite himself, Zevran was genuinely intrigued.

Lilyth shifted the ice against her hand and winced. At that pain, it seemed as though the fight drained out of her, and she let out a sigh. "There is a mage... a mage that I do not want to die."

Those words finally gave him the key to her tantrum. "Ah, I see! You are worried that Aedan and Morrigan might discover that he is a blood mage and kill him? And, you wish to be there to stop it?"

Again that icy glare. "I would rather that you not make assumptions about me, assassin."

"Then, I am afraid that I don't understand."

"Her name is Gloria. She was a... she was someone that I knew when I lived in the Tower." She sniffed arrogantly, somehow managing to look marvelously narcissistic despite the sickly pallor of her skin. "She was someone that I could tolerate."

"You were friends?" Zevran suggested, though the idea of such friendship was usually foreign to a Crow. But, it was common enough to others, wasn't it?

"I suppose you could call her that."

"And you don't want Aedan and Morrigan to kill her?" Maker, trying to get this woman to talk was not unlike pulling teeth.

Lilyth shrugged. "If she is an abomination, then I do not care what happens to her." Her lashes swept over her eyes and her voice lowered. "But, if she is simply trying to hide until this is over, I would do my best to ensure that she gets out alive."

Zevran took a moment to consider the idea that such a cruel woman would actually go out of her way to help someone. This Gloria must have been some friend. "I see. And, that was the reason for your tantrum?"

The blood mage huffed in annoyance. "That was not a tantrum, assassin. I was... merely expressing my vexation with the situation."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "My lovely Warden, that was a tantrum worthy of the Empress. At any moment I half expected you to stomp your foot."

Turning her head as if to ignore his comment, she said only, "Hand me my pack."

"You know, most people would think to add please when they order someone around." But, he still complied, and leaned over to grab her bag. The large pack was heavy, probably due to the number of books she had shoved into it when she and Morrigan had ransacked that office. "How many books do you have in here?"

"Enough," she said, as he slid the bag to her. "First Enchanter Irving kept a number of important books hidden away from the mages." With her left hand, she pushed back the flap and dug around inside, pushing books aside until she pulled out a thick one with strange symbols etched into the cover.

Zevran watched in amusement as she opened the book and tried to balance it on her left knee with her elbow, while still using her left hand to keep the ice pressed against her bruised fingers. After a few minutes of watching her struggle, when it was getting difficult for him to keep a straight face, he couldn't keep quiet. "Since you are having so much trouble, might I offer my assistance?"

Her eyes snapped towards him. "What, exactly, do you propose?"

"That you allow me to hold the ice to your hand so that your other is free to hold your book."

She looked back down at her hand, shielding her eyes from him. For a moment, he thought she was actually considering the offer, but then she turned her head and said simply, "No."

Zevran shrugged; it didn't matter whether she was having difficulty or not, though he had at least thought to offer. He watched her flip through the pages with some trouble; the pages had symbols and a strange language that he didn't recognize. Perhaps it was an arcane language that mages could understand? However, even though he couldn't make out any words, he could make a reasonable guess as to the book's contents. "That is a book of healing, yes?"

"Yes," she said, not bothering to lift her head and look at him. She flipped the page, and her frown deepened. "It teaches very powerful healing magic, in addition to delving into the path of a Spirit Healer."

He had no idea what a Spirit Healer was. A healer more powerful than the average one, perhaps? "Can it show you how to heal your hand?"

"Eventually." Finally, she raised her head from the book and glanced at him. "Learning a new spell is not as simple as waving one's hands and making it happen. It takes time to learn how to cast a spell properly; especially with healing, which uses a different energy than other spells. And, the more powerful the spell, the longer it takes to learn." She turned back to the book. "However, I am hoping to find a simple spell that I might cast now. I doubt I will manage to do more than reduce the bruising and swelling but that, at least, should allow me to bind my hand."

Zevran nodded as if he understood her words though, in truth, he knew almost nothing about magic. There were Circles in Antiva, of course, but the mages there were guarded quite vigorously by the templars. Few people made a habit of visiting them.

Besides, he didn't care to discuss magic with the infuriating blood mage. He had just been hoping to get her to talk, but she had grown quiet again. He would have to think of something new to say, perhaps, otherwise Morrigan and Aedan would return and he might lose his chance.

He was certain that Lilyth had heard Rinna's name in the Fade, and he was almost certain that she had heard the demon's words before he killed the false woman. But, he wasn't completely positive, and he didn't like the thought that this cruel blood mage, whose reasons for keeping him alive were still unknown, might have a piece of information about him that he kept hidden.

Unfortunately, his subtle ways of speaking to her hadn't worked. At this rate, he'd never figure it out. Perhaps it might be time to try a more direct approach.

Leaning back on his hands, he regarded her bent head with a carefully schooled look. "So, my lovely Warden, tell me what it is you saw in the Fade."

Immediately, her head snapped up and she glared at him with such anger that it would have frightened a lesser man. She looked every inch the amoral blood mage who would twist the mind of an unsuspecting victim and force them to do her bidding. But, that look gave him a thousand insights. Whatever it was that she had seen, it hadn't been pleasant. If Zevran had to guess, he would say that it most likely had something to do with the Mistress she so hated.

"Why would you ask me a question like that?" Her words were calm and quiet, a sharp contrast to the rage in her eyes. Zevran, who was good at reading people, knew that he had scored a very powerful hit.

He also knew that the best way to proceed was to pretend ignorance. It was an act that had served him well over the years. "Oh, I don't know, it only seems fair. You were privy to mine, after all."

Her eyes immediately flicked away, but not before he saw a glimmer of relief in them. "Did I?" she asked, with pretend innocence. "With everything else that happened, I scarcely remember it."

She was a horrible liar. "Has that ever worked on anyone? Because it seems quite easy to see right through you."

With a sigh, she looked at him again. "Very well, assassin, I saw your dream. What of it? Is it something that you wished to keep secret? If so, you should know that I do not care enough to reveal it to anyone."

Zevran sat quietly for a moment, wondering what to say to that. He wasn't such a fool as to believe her for a moment. But, he could hardly come right out and admit that he didn't like the thought of her knowing about Rinna. No doubt she would take that knowledge and make it worse.

After a moment of silence, Lilyth shifted the ice against her hand and turned back to her book. "You need have no fear of me telling someone about the woman, assassin."

Zevran was unable to contain his sharp bark of laughter, which caused the blood mage to scowl. "I should believe you because you are always so honest, yes?"

Adjusting the book with her knee, she gave him a small shrug. "Believe me or not. I do not care."

"Now, why on Thedas would you be willing to keep such a thing to yourself? You have not even asked for anything in return."

"As it happens, I am not unfamiliar with your situation."

_That _got Zevran's attention. His mirth died away, and he studied the blood mage curiously, though her face was resolutely turned from him. "You... what?"

Her head jerked slightly. "As I said, I am not unfamiliar with your situation."

"No, I heard that part. I was hoping you might care to elaborate."

She twisted around to glare at him, her dark eyes narrowed angrily; in that look, Zevran knew he had struck a nerve. "To what purpose? You constantly ask me questions about myself; you watch me as if I am a tapestry that you wish to unravel. What do you need such information for? What are you looking for?"

Zevran stared at the blood mage incredulously. What was _he_ looking for? All _he _wanted was to figure out if she had any plans to sacrifice him with some cruel blood magic. Or throw him back to the Crows at her earliest convenience. "What? You think _I _am planning something?"

"What is it?" she demanded sharply. "I am tired of wondering. Do you plan to finish your job later? Are you hoping that I might turn my back, so that you might plunge a dagger in it? Do you wish to go back to the Crows and tell them your job is finished?"

She thought that he was waiting for an opportunity to finish his contract? He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by that, though he _was_ a bit startled at the fact that her words stung. Not that he cared what she thought about him–the very idea was laughable–but because it was starting to seem as though he would never escape the Crows. He had been honest to the Wardens. He had been honest about his life, honest about his contract, and had hoped that that honesty might have granted him a better life.

He should have expected that to everyone else, he was still a dangerous assassin. Someone who could never be trusted. Part of him wished to agree with her assessment–such trust often got one killed, after all–but a very small part of him was disappointed.

"You have gone quiet," she said, studying his face. "I was correct, then?"

"No, you are not," he said quietly. "But, I suppose I cannot blame you for that thought. Were I in your shoes, I would have come to the same conclusion. But, all I want is as I said: to leave the Crows. And, if I _did _want to kill you and your two fellow Wardens, I could have done so by now. I have had a dozen opportunities."

That silenced her for a moment. "Then, why do you pester me with your questions? Why would you ever care to learn about me, if not for use at a later time?"

He could almost have laughed at the way this conversation had gone. As ever, this cruel blood mage never did as he expected or hoped. But, perhaps it was time to be fully honest and judge her reaction. "Because you are a blood mage who intends to destroy your phylactery and possibly fight against the templars guarding it. Because you asked Aedan to spare _my _life, though I have seen you turn your back on others who require help." He looked straight in her eyes. "What reason could you have had to spare my life, if not for the purpose of sacrificing me to the templars you plan to fight? Or, perhaps you intend to hand me back to the Crows if they offer you a big enough payment?"

Her dark eyes widened slightly; to Zevran, she seemed genuinely surprised. "You..." She stopped herself and, after a moment, scowled and turned back to her book. "You are a fool."

"And why is that?"

"It would not matter how much I was offered. I would not hand another over to such slavery as the Crows. And, as for fighting the templars..." She lifted her head and thought for a moment, as if genuinely considering whether or not to use his blood. "I doubt your blood would be of much use to me. I doubt I could control your mind even if I wished to, and cutting open your veins would serve as much use to me as anyone else. I could just as easily kill a commoner for my blood magic. In fact, I would actually prefer it, as I doubt a commoner would put up much of a fight."

Zevran wanted to laugh. Or perhaps shake his head and sigh. He wasn't quite sure which. But, he did–foolish as it might be–believe her words. There was something about them that sounded like truth. That didn't mean she wouldn't change her mind later; but, for now, he might accept her words as the truth.

"Now," she said, her fingers running over the words in her book, "for once in your life, be silent. I believe I may be able to reduce the swelling, and I do not care to have you interrupt me."

She set the ice aside and, as Zevran watched, Lilyth held her left hand over her right, scanned the page once more, and whispered strange words he couldn't recognize. A soft blue light began to emanate from her hand and drifted forward, wrapping itself around her broken fingers and swollen skin until the skin glittered blue. After a few moments, the light died away and Lilyth stared down at her hand.

Although it was still bruised and her hand was still limp, he could see that the swelling was almost gone. Her hand was almost at its normal size again.

"Well," she said lightly, "that is all I can manage at this point, until I have had time to study these spells further."

He was curious as to how much damage she had healed. "Can you move your fingers?"

He saw her thumb twitch slightly, though the rest of her fingers remained limp. "No."

Zevran reached for his pack and pulled out more bandages. "Well, at least it can now be bandaged, which will help keep your bones straight and prevent you from hurting it worse." He hesitated, knowing that she wouldn't like his next suggestion. But, it had to be said. "You will have a difficult time wrapping it yourself."

A few moments of silence greeted his words, as Lilyth studied him. He could see her weighing out her options but, in the end, even she had to acknowledge that it would be better for him to wrap it. With a heavy sigh, she held out her arm. "Very well. Only make sure that you do it correctly, and that you are quick about it."

Carefully, so as not to further damage her hand, he set her forearm on his knee and began to wrap her broken fingers, taking care so that they would heal straight. Normally, Zevran would have made some joke about finally being able to hold her hand, just for the amusement of making her angry. But, for some reason, he found that he didn't care to make jokes just then.

Instead, he made an effort to avoid looking at her. She, for her part, turned her head and fixed her eyes on the wall, never once glancing at him, until he was finished.

oOo

Aedan pulled his dagger from the dead body of the demon, only to jump back as the orange flesh began to hiss and smoke, soon erupting into a pile of ash. "Maker! I'm never going to get used to things that don't just crumple over when they die!"

Morrigan, surrounded by a strange translucent glow–a spell that she had said healed her as enemies died–turned an amused face to him. "Demons and the undead are creatures that do not die as mortals."

"Clearly not." He looked around the newly cleared room, with scattered bones and piles of ash everywhere, and shook his head. "I'll be extremely grateful when this mess is finished."

"This is what happens when you lock away a people," the witch commented, her eyes scanning the scratches on the walls. Each room in the Tower looked as though fighting had taken place. "They will, at times, turn to the most desperate of solutions to rid themselves of their enslavement."

Aedan wasn't sure what to say to that. It was true that he had started to believe that perhaps the mages didn't need to be locked up away from the world. He had started to think that it was cruel. But, having seen firsthand how powerful abominations and blood mages were, he understood why the templars feared them. Of course, even Aedan had to admit that the blood mages in the Tower were different from Lilyth. Which was a thought that bothered him. Why had these mages turned to demons when she hadn't?

As they continued down the hall–this floor of the Tower was thankfully empty compared to the rest–Aedan decided to take the opportunity to ask the witch her thoughts. "Morrigan, would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"You may ask, though I may choose not to answer."

"Fair enough, I suppose." He swept a hand out, indicating the Tower as a whole; the bodies they had seen, the possessed blood mages, the demons, everything. "These blood mages... they're different from Lilyth. Why is that? Is it only the demons that makes them insane? Or is their blood magic different from hers?" He had considered asking Lilyth herself, but knew better than to expect a straight answer. Morrigan, however, was nothing if not honest. Some might even say brutally honest.

The witch took her time in answering. "Not every blood mage is the same, just as not every mage is the same."

Aedan fought the urge to sigh and shake his head. Was it a rule that all female mages had to be so Maker damned frustrating? "I can see _that, _Morrigan. What I want to know is why these blood mages have gone crazy, when Lilyth hasn't. Is her blood magic different, or is it only a matter of time?"

Morrigan pursed her lips thoughtfully. "If Lilyth ever does go crazy, as you put it, I doubt it will have anything to do with a demon. I suspect that her own mind might lead her down that path, without any demonic aid."

Maker, couldn't she just give a straight answer? "Could you just answer my question, please?"

The witch shook her head. "I do not believe that you are in danger of Lilyth turning to a demon for any purpose. The mages here became desperate. They longed for the power that a demon promised, believing it to be the only way to escape their shackles. But, demons are tricksters; they do nothing without some gain for themselves. The result is as you have seen here."

"But, couldn't these mages have learned blood magic without a demon? Isn't that what Lilyth said? If they had done that, they wouldn't have gone crazy."

"Yes, 'tis true one does not _need_ a demon. However it is, one would think, easier to call a demon than risk discovery by searching for a mage to teach you. Besides, the Chantry sees little difference between an abomination and a mage who has merely learned blood magic. To them, a maleficar is a maleficar, demonic possession or no. Since the punishment is the same, and since demonic possession greatly increases the power of blood magic, why not? Most find the risk worth it, and arrogantly assume they can control a demon."

As they approached a closed door that led to one of the side rooms in this giant hall, Aedan nodded to Morrigan to prepare herself. The witch inclined her head and clutched her staff, preparing to attack, while Aedan kicked the door open. They had fallen into a routine where Aedan would shove the door open, and Morrigan would swiftly attack with magic.

Thankfully, however, this room was empty. Aedan slipped his daggers back into his belt, grateful for a slight reprieve. "So, Lilyth's blood magic is weaker than an abomination's?"

Morrigan waved her staff, and the translucent glow around her faded away. "For your purpose, yes. However, one might argue that the risk she runs is far less, since she remains in control of her own mind. And so, her magic is therefor stronger."

Aedan nodded and turned his focus back to the task at hand. This floor of the Tower seemed much more quiet than the rest; all in all, it only took them about an hour to reach the end of the hall. Lilyth had described which door would lead them to the bottom of the stairs towards the Harrowing Chamber–where, she claimed, Uldred, the man that had caused this mess, would most likely be–so Aedan breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for Morrigan to follow him quickly back to the room where they had left Lilyth and Zevran.

They didn't have a whole lot of time to waste, especially since they didn't know what Uldred was up to, but Aedan had wanted to make sure that Lilyth would be of use in the coming fight. If she was still carrying around a swollen hand that could barely move, she wouldn't be able to help. Aedan needed both mages to be at their best. He assumed that the best way to fight a blood mage was with magic; at the very least, Morrigan and Lilyth–especially Lilyth–had more knowledge of such magic than he did. He highly doubted that, even if they asked nicely, Uldred would be willing to stop whatever it was he was doing.

On their way back, Aedan became aware of the fact that Morrigan kept glancing at him curiously. After a few moments of this, his own curiosity got the better of him. "Is there something you need, Morrigan?"

"I was merely thinking."

"About?"

"I was wondering if you intended to make good on your promise. To save the mages and keep that templar from destroying the Tower, that is."

Aedan was surprised. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You see the damage that mages can cause, should they allow a demon in. Most would assume that this means we should all be looked away, for our own good and the good of Thedas."

Her question, so sharply on point as to what he had been thinking about earlier, caught him off guard and drove him to honesty. He took a moment to reply, not wanting to offend her. "Well, I'll admit that seeing this amount of damage _does_ make me a little hesitant to have such powerful people running around freely. What happens if they decided to turn on Ferelden?"

Morrigan watched his face. "I sense a 'however' coming."

"However," he added, "I don't think it's right to lock away someone just because of what they _might_ do. And... I never forget what happened to my family. That was done without magic."

"You never speak of your family," the witch remarked.

Aedan looked away. "No, I don't."

"I must admit that I have been curious about the reason for that."

He didn't much care for this line of questioning, but his annoyance was tempered by guilt. Was he planning to never speak of his family again? Father would tell him that even painful memories were still worth remembering. "Arl Howe... you know that he killed my family, don't you?"

"Yes, I have heard you mention that much. But, what I wondered is why. Was it for power or gain? Or, did he hold a personal grudge against your family?"

"Power," Aedan said shortly. "My father was the Teyrn of Highever, second only to King Cailan, and Howe was jealous. By killing my family, he hoped to snap up the title."

"I see. I am... sorry," Morrigan said, though the apology sounded awkward on her tongue.

"Don't be." He didn't want sympathy over what had happened; he had already spent countless hours torturing himself, only to come to the conclusion that there was no point in thinking about it. "What's done is done. I can't bring them back, but I can honor my promise to Father."

"To end the Blight?" the witch asked.

Aedan shook his head. "No, he asked that I join the Wardens. Duncan wished to recruit me, and Father asked that I join the Wardens and bring justice to Howe. I swore I would do both, and I intend to keep that promise."

"And, after you have brought justice to Howe? What do you intend to do then?"

He hesitated; in all honesty, he hadn't really thought about it. "Assuming that we manage to actually survive the Blight? I don't know. I guess... I'll continue with my life as a Warden."

Morrigan frowned. "Just like that? Because of a promise to your father?"

"It's more than that." Maker, how could he explain what it was to be a Warden? "To be a Warden is a life choice, rather than just an order. I didn't know that before the Joining, and I don't know my father even knew what he was asking. But, we take the darkspawn taint into ourselves. I'm tainted now. Even if I were to walk away after the Blight, I would still be a Warden."

The witch nodded, seemingly unsurprised at his comment about Wardens taking the taint into themselves. Then again, perhaps she already knew about it. Aedan suspected that her mother knew a lot more about the Wardens than she had let on. She had probably passed that information onto Morrigan.

They continued on in silence to the room where they had left Lilyth and Zevran, and found the two elves sitting a few feet away from each other, seemingly ignoring one another. Aedan raised an eyebrow. He knew the two of them didn't exactly get along; maybe leaving them together hadn't been the best idea, but he hadn't wanted to leave Lilyth by herself, and preferred to have Morrigan's magic with him.

He noted that Lilyth's hand was bandaged and almost at its normal size again. "How's your hand?"

She raised her arm and studied the bandages. "It is fine."

"Well then, both of you come on. This floor is cleared, and we're ready to move on to the Harrowing Chamber. Lilyth, you said Uldred is probably there?"

"Yes. It is a room large enough for him to work his magic without disruption." She hesitated, and looked between Aedan and Morrigan. "Did either of you happen to find any more blood mages?"

Aedan shook his head. "No, we didn't. We only encountered demons and walking corpses. Why?"

"No reason." Lilyth picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder. "I am ready."

Aedan grabbed the Litany of Adralla, tucked it into his pack, and walked back towards the Harrowing Chamber with the others. He, for one, was ready to be done with this place.

oOo

"Please! You have to end this now, before it's too late!"

As Lilyth studied the templar trapped behind the magical barrier, the corners of her lips twitched up into a smile. How different he was now! When she had lived in the Circle Tower, Cullen had been shy and bashful, too nervous to do anything more than stammer and blush in her presence. She had believed him a fool. A handsome fool, to be sure, but a fool nonetheless.

Apparently, he was also a raging fool. At the first sign of danger, that timidness had dropped, and now he was on a rant about dangerous mages. Like every templar before him, all he could think was that mages were evil, wicked creatures who must be killed.

"And now we see your true colors," she stated sweetly. Her hand, though still painful, felt much better than before, which put her in a much better mood. As long as she continued to ignore that failed assassin, her good mood was destined to continue. As such, she couldn't help but taunt this weak templar who couldn't handle mages putting images in his head. "You once swore to me that you would have felt horrible if you had been forced to kill me. Do you remember? It was after my Harrowing, and you professed how you did not wish to kill me. Yet now, you demand that my fellow mages be slaughtered like animals."

Behind her, Morrigan let out a laugh. "Are we to expect anything different from a templar?"

"You two aren't helping," Aedan said sharply.

But Lilyth laughed. "Why should we help? Look at him! A few scattered images put in his mind, and he folds like a house of cards. A few distasteful thoughts, and suddenly he is craving the death of all mages."

"You don't know what it's like!" Cullen shouted. "I watched my friends die! I saw... horrible things." He sank to the floor. "The thoughts they put in my head... I was trapped..."

Lilyth, however, had no sympathy to offer. "That, my weak templar, was most likely a spell called Waking Nightmare. It is quite a useful spell–a spell that has nothing to do with blood magic, by the way–that twists the mind and plants false images in your head. If the caster is strong enough, they can even choose what images to force you to see."

Aedan seemed confused by that. "I thought blood mages were the only ones who could get into your head?"

"Not at all," she replied. "Waking Nightmare is a spell along the Entropy path, and even innocent little mages who follow the Chantry have reasons to learn it." Her smile became a bit forced. Waking Nightmare was also a favorite of the Mistress. How many nights had Lilyth spent locked in a cell, forced to relive Letia's death over and over? Yet this templar couldn't endure it?

"You have to swear to kill them!" Cullen screamed, pleading at Aedan as if he was the only one who might listen. "Those mages in the Harrowing Chamber... they've all been touched by blood magic! You can't be sure they're not blood mages themselves!"

"Now _that_ is simply not true," Lilyth said, her earlier good mood fading quickly. "But, I see you are a true templar, after all. You bring much credit to that Maker you serve."

Aedan drew himself up and turned to Lilyth, Zevran, and Morrigan. "Look, it doesn't matter. Cullen might be crazy, but at least he was coherent enough to tell us that Uldred is trying to force mages to turn into abominations. However, that doesn't mean we're going to be killing all of the mages just because they're in a bad situation. We'll deal with Uldred and go from there."

So, despite Cullen's insane screams that they must kill every mage in existence, Lilyth and the others marched past him, to the stairs that led up to the Harrowing Chamber. And, inside, they were greeted by a scene that might as well have been ripped straight from the Void. Not even the Mistress' chambers had been this corrupted.

Immediately, Lilyth knew that Uldred was an abomination. Only a possessed mortal would use their power to force other mages to accept demonic power, as he was doing with one mage, who screamed and tried to resist. Others were crumpled on the ground and, as Lilyth saw them, anger bubbled just beneath her surface. To take away their choice and literally _force_ them into slavery? That was something Brinna had done, when she had forced Lilyth and the other girls, on threat of death, to learn blood magic.

Lilyth quickly cast her eyes around the room, turning her face from the mage who was being tortured. She counted at least a dozen mages lying limply on the ground, though she couldn't tell if they were alive or not. A number of abominations stood beside Uldred; no doubt they were mages who had been unable to resist Uldred's power.

But, it was the glimpse of dark brown hair, almost black in the shadowy room, that caught Lilyth's attention. Was that Gloria? From where Lilyth stood, she could see that the body type was similar to Gloria's, but the woman was lying on her side and had her back to Lilyth. Lilyth couldn't see the woman's face, or even if she was alive or not.

However, she wasn't given time to dwell on it. They barely had enough time to glance around the room and assess the damage, before the abominations turned to look at them. Soon, Uldred's attention was drawn from the mage he was torturing. He let the mage crumple to the ground and turned, his eyes traveling over them, before coming to rest on Lilyth.

"Ah, the little elf with the tragic past," he said tauntingly. "The star pupil of the Tower."

Lilyth gave him a feral smile. "Well, I see that the demon who controls you has allowed you to hold on to some of your memories. How very kind of it."

"Is he an abomination?" Aedan asked her quietly.

Lilyth didn't bother to keep her voice down. "Yes, and a powerful one."

Uldred laughed at that. "You see what I am, but that works both ways, little elf. I see what you are, and you are more like me than you care to admit." A silence dropped over them, broken only by the abominations who grunted and moaned. Yet they remained still, as if waiting for Uldred's command.

The crazed man swept his arms out around the room. "Can't you see the wonderful gift I've offered to the others?" He turned to a pillar, drawing Lilyth's attention to where First Enchanter Irving was bound. By the bruises and cuts on his body, and the way his head was dropping to his chest, it would appear as though he had been tortured for quite some time. "Unfortunately, some people can be so stubborn," Uldred continued. "Irving here thinks he has only to refuse me long to escape."

"S-stop... him..." Irving gasped, his voice raspy and weak.

"Why are you torturing these mages?" Aedan demanded, anger sharp in his voice. Lilyth shook her head; any idiot could make a reasonable guess about that. An army of abominations would be a powerful thing. Possibly powerful enough to take over Ferelden.

"Why not?" Uldred countered. "A mage is but a larval form of something greater. I offer these mages the chance to realize their full potential." Once again, his eyes came to rest on Lilyth. "What about you, little elf? I see that you are a blood mage. You have already taken the first steps down the path that leads to my gift."

Immediately, Lilyth's eyes snapped towards Irving. He was conscious; she watched him stir and lift his head. Dammit! He had heard! Nine years of hiding her magic in the Tower, carefully keeping her true self a secret, and in one split second it came down. If they got out of this alive, Irving would tell the templars. She knew it.

She glanced back at her companions. Morrigan and Zevran were watching her reaction, but Aedan was already pulling out the Litany of Adralla from his pack. After fighting that demon of sloth, the soul of one of the Circle mages–who had apparently been trapped while his life was used to power the demon–had told them to use it to keep Uldred from possessing more mages.

Lilyth turned back to Uldred with an angry smile. "I have nothing to do with demons. Nor would I ever. Your words are as pointless as your existence."

"Resistance!" Uldred growled. "Everywhere I go, resistance! Well, it doesn't matter. You'll come to accept my gift soon enough, even if I have to force you!"

Things began to happen fast after those words. Uldred lifted his head and raised his arms; a glowing white light erupted around him and, when it was gone, a giant demon of pride stood in his place. Lilyth had never seen one before, but she had read about them, and knew that it was very powerful.

Aedan stood with his back against the wall and the scroll for the Litany of Adralla in front of him. Lilyth could hear his murmured words drift across the room as Zevran disappeared into the shadows and Morrigan swept her staff before her, sending out a burst of energy that knocked the abominations back.

Lilyth, however, had something else to focus on. Her quick mind, honed by years of training in the Mistress' estate, had swiftly reached a decision the moment Uldred had called attention to her blood magic. Since her right hand was still virtually useless, she drew her knife with her left hand and cut a deep line down her right arm. The pain caused her to hiss, but she needed plenty of power. As soon as the dark red liquid dripped down her arm, she gathered the blood in her right hand, latching onto the powerful energy and mumbling the spell for Death Cloud.

Everything disappeared into shadows as the black mist began to swirl around the large room. She could hear the pride demon and abominations screaming in agony as their bodies were set upon by the spiritual attack. As the caster, Lilyth could easily see her way through the black cloud, but her own allies would be unable to see her. And that's what she wanted.

As she quickly darted through the room, avoiding abominations and, at one point, Morrigan, she heard the harsh wet sound of a blade connecting with flesh. By the shout of rage from the demon of pride, she assumed that Zevran had managed to score a hit. But, she ignored the sounds of battle, instead continuing her march towards the pillar where the First Enchanter was bound.

There was no hope for it. Uldred had said she was a blood mage, and Lilyth had no doubt that Irving had heard the words. He couldn't be left alive. She knew he would tell the templars, and couldn't allow that to happen. Though Duncan had said that blood mages were safe in the Wardens, most of the Wardens were dead. All that was left was her, Aedan, and Alistair. Alistair would no doubt be thrilled to hand her over to the templars, and Aedan wasn't important enough to defend her if the Chantry came for her.

So, as Aedan finished reciting the Litany, effectively cutting off part of Uldred's power, Lilyth turned her blood magic upon the First Enchanter.

It was almost too easy. Uldred had severely weakened the old man. It took almost nothing to boil his remaining blood and burn him from the inside out. Irving began screaming as his insides ignited, but with the chaos of the battle around them Lilyth felt confident that the others couldn't hear him. Only the templars would be able to feel the touch of blood magic on his dead body, and they would most likely assume it was from Uldred himself.

After only a few short moments he was dead, and Lilyth was free to turn her attention back to the battle. The Death Cloud was beginning to fade, and so she quickly moved away from Irving's body. If Aedan ever discovered what she had done, she had no doubt that he would be furious.

The blood was flowing freely down her right arm, and she was beginning to grow dizzy. She'd have to stop the wound before she lost too much blood. But, for now, she had enough energy for a few more spells. Between the Death Cloud and Morrigan's spells, it seemed as though the abominations were dead. All that was left was the demon of pride.

The others had managed to weaken it; Lilyth pulled on the power of her blood to charge a string of energy at the demon. The energy wrapped around its giant body, boiling its blood in the same way she had done with Irving. Unfortunately, the demon was much stronger than the weakened First Enchanter, and she was already tired. Her spell wasn't able to do much more than slow it down, but it was enough time for Zevran to slip up behind it and stab it in the back of its leg.

His blade left behind a bleeding wound that Lilyth was immediately able to exploit. Instead of pulling on her own blood, she pulled on the blood of the pride demon, ripping the red liquid from it's body, jerking it towards her and forcing it to wrap around her own arm. The energy from the blood was able to heal her somewhat, and had the doubled effect of weakening the demon, thus allowing Morrigan to send a burst of ice at its feet. Its legs were frozen to the floor and it fell forward, crashing to the ground with such a hard thud that it shook the floor. Suddenly, Aedan was standing over its body; he raised his knives and slammed the daggers into the demon's head.

It was finished. The demon was dead.

Lilyth released her hold on the demon's blood and, before she could even turn her head, Zevran was at her side. She hadn't even heard him approaching, which annoyed her. Without a word, the assassin handed her some bandages and gestured to her arm. Lilyth's eyes narrowed. Had he seen her cut herself? Had he seen her kill Irving?

Aedan wiped his daggers off as best he could and slid them back into the belt around his waist. He walked over to Irving; Lilyth heard his sharp string of curses before he twisted around to glare at them. "What happened?"

Lilyth shrugged as she wrapped her arm as best she could. Zevran slid a glance in her direction before turning back to the nobleman. "One can only imagine what Uldred was doing before we came," he said. "Perhaps it was too much?"

"Didn't Uldred say this was Irving? The First Enchanter?" Aedan demanded.

Her arm wrapped up tightly, Lilyth nodded. "Yes, he was."

"Dammit!" Aedan delivered a sharp kick to the base of the pillar. "The Knight-Commander said he'd destroy the Tower if Irving was dead!"

Ignoring his sharp anger, Lilyth walked over to the young woman whose face she hadn't been able to see. Kneeling down beside her, she could see that the woman was still breathing. It was shallow, but she was still alive. Lilyth rolled the woman over and studied her face for a few moments.

The movement seemed to rouse the young woman, who took in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open; Lilyth watched them dart around before finally settling on her. "Lilyth?"

"That is correct, Gloria. I see you are not dead."

The woman gave a raspy laugh. "No, not yet. It takes more than one psychotic abomination to kill me." She sat up and winced, rubbing her temples. "Ow, my head. He didn't manage to get me possessed, but he did give me a nasty ride."

Lilyth chuckled. At least Gloria's crude sense of humor was intact. "I suppose a nasty ride _is _worse than an exhausting ride."

Gloria laughed, and then cursed. "Dammit girl, it hurts too much to laugh." With Lilyth's help she climbed to her feet and, although she was bruised and bloodied and swayed a little, she was able to stand. Her eyes took in the scene–the dead mages, dead abominations, and the giant body of the demon of pride–before coming back to Lilyth. "Well, you sure have a good sense of timing, don't you?"

Lilyth shrugged. "Aedan requires mages for his fight against the Blight. As I am now a Grey Warden, I was forced to accompany him. It was luck, nothing more."

Gloria began to laugh, but then winced again and clutched her head. "Dammit, woman! I told you laughing hurts."

"I said nothing even remotely humorous."

"No, but you know I love that 'I don't give a shit' attitude." She chuckled for a few more minutes. "Well, at least it's good to know you haven't changed as a Warden."

"I doubt you would have to worry about that." Lilyth couldn't help but smile. During her time in the Tower, Gloria was the only person Lilyth had been honest with. To everyone else, she had been a sweet little demure innocent, someone to be petted and coddled. It had been an attempt to charm her way into being raised to a Senior Enchanter. Although Lilyth had never admitted to her blood magic and had hidden the circumstances of her arrival to the Tower, Gloria had been the only person to see glimpses of Lilyth's true arrogant self. Strangely enough, Gloria had always found it amusing.

Gloria's mirth faded as she looked around the room. Zevran and Aedan were walking around checking the mages, seeing how many were dead. All in all, it looked as though only five of them, not including Gloria, were still alive. "Shit, he tore this place apart, didn't he?" Gloria whispered. She turned back to Lilyth. "Are any of the others still alive?"

"We found a few of them in hiding, and Wynne is near the apprentice quarters with a few other mages and some of the children."

"Trust that old hag to keep herself safe," Gloria murmured. "But, at least some of the others are alive. Do you think... will the templars punish us for what Uldred did?"

Aedan approached the two of them, followed by the five mages. Although they were all bruised and bloodied, they looked as though they would be fine. "We're going to convince Greagoir to let you out of the Tower," Aedan said firmly.

"Really?" Gloria gasped; the other mages looked just as surprised.

"Yes," he replied. "Greagoir promised that the mages would be free to aid us against the Blight."

Morrigan watched him curiously. "But, that promise was made on the condition that Irving was alive. He also said that if Irving was dead, the Tower would be destroyed."

"Well, there's nothing to do about it now," Aedan said. "I'll just have to find a way to convince him that these mages are fine. Even without Irving."

Gloria's eyes were wide and fearful, and Lilyth felt a strange urge to say something. A small part of her felt awkward about this conversation. If she hadn't killed Irving, this wouldn't have been a problem. But, to leave him alive would have meant risking her secret being exposed, and she couldn't have let that happen. "I am sure that Wynne will make Greagoir see reason," she said. "She has known Greagoir almost as long as Irving has; no doubt she will refuse to let him destroy the Tower. And, I am sure she will make him listen."

She leaned towards Gloria and lowered her voice. "If not, I will convince Aedan to ask you to join us. From what I understand, the Wardens have a right to conscript others into their ranks."

Gloria turned to look at her, a hopeful expression on her face. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

Lilyth shrugged, unsure of what to say. That Gloria was the first person she had ever met who befriended her without extracting a price? That a part of her felt the need to keep her from the templars? No, she couldn't say that. Instead, she said simply, "You are a powerful mage. I am sure that, if you cannot join the army, you will still be useful in the Wardens. No doubt Aedan will agree."

She noticed Zevran watching her and promptly turned away from Gloria. "We shall see what happens. There is no point in worrying about it until we know for sure what Greagoir intends."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** I am so, so sorry about the extremely long wait for this chapter. I've had a number of projects that distracted my muse, and r/l has gotten a bit hectic. My husband and I might be moving next month, depending on how some things go, so I've been a bit addle-brained lately. I tried to make this chapter a bit longer than the others, hoping to maybe make up for the wait. Thank you so much for your patience._

_I also appreciate those who took the time to review, request alerts, or are reading. It means a lot! Thank you all again for your patience!_


	15. Chapter 15

**XV. We C****an't Slow Down Even if We Tried**

Gloria lifted her chin, raising her eyes to the sky and quickly shielding them as the bright light assaulted her vision. Andraste's ass! Who decided that the sun needed to be so bright? Couldn't it have been a bit more toned down? Did people really _need_ such vivid light? Sure, Gloria was well aware of the many benefits of the sun, but still. It really was too much. Especially for someone who had lived in the Tower their entire life. Now she knew how a mole must feel when it popped out of the ground. Except those lucky bastards were blind, weren't they? Of course, if it continued to stay _this _Maker damned bright all the time, Gloria was sure to be as well.

Momentarily distracted by the conversation going on around her, she squinted her eyes and tried peering as close to the sun as she could, with the result that her eyes were soon watering. She should probably stop trying to stare at the sun–unless she wanted to severely speed up her blindness, of course–but she couldn't help it. As much as it bothered her, she started wondering when had been the last time she had stood on the grass and had been able to look up at the sky. Maybe when she was a child, taking a break before returning to her work on Da's farm?

Finally pulling her eyes away from the sky, she turned to stare at Lake Calenhad. The view here on the beach was much different from the view in the Tower, and the water looked no less bright than the sun. From where Gloria stood, the lake looked as though it had been covered in a fine shield of gold, which twinkled and sparkled like a pile of treasure.

Seeing the lake from the solid ground, more than anything else, seemed to bring home the fact that she was away from the Tower; not First Enchanter Wynne's reluctant permission, or Knight-Commander Greagoir's approval; not the boat ride with the others, or the pack slung over her shoulder.

No, it was the feel of the grass beneath her leather boots, and seeing the gilded lake from the ground that reminded Gloria she was no longer in the Tower. She took in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air that carried the faint scent of water; air so unlike the stale, dusty scent of the Tower that, for a moment, she almost thought she was dreaming.

But, she wasn't dreaming.

This was real.

She had agreed to join the Wardens. She was away from the Tower and, in the bright sunshine, it almost seemed like the horrors of Uldred's uprising had never even happened.

When she finally turned back to the others–her new companions, strange as it was–she saw Lilyth watching her with something of a small smile on her face. "I felt much the same," her friend said quietly, "when I first escaped."

Well, at least _some_ things hadn't changed. Lilyth's intense dislike for the Circle Tower was clearly evident by her choice of words. As for Gloria... while she would revel in these new surroundings for days, she wouldn't say that she hated Kinloch Hold. It was all she had ever known. Brought to the Tower as a child of six, Gloria barely even remembered living on Da's farm. The Circle was her home, and part of her was sad to leave it.

Still, it _was_ quite exciting being a mage free of the Tower, with the whole world before her. Aedan, the Warden who seemed to be in charge of the others, had told the Knight-Commander and the new First Enchanter that he required mages to help against the Blight. With Irving dead, the Commander had refused to allow the mages to leave, and had instead pledged his templars to join the Wardens. But, Aedan had still argued that he needed a healer.

Wynne had expressed her desire to join them against the Blight, but she was needed at the Tower. So, Lilyth had offered to take Gloria. While not as skilled a healer as Wynne, true, Gloria _was_ knowledgeable in the art of healing.

So, it had been decided. And Gloria had agreed to join the Wardens.

She turned her attention to the strangers who were to be her new companions, her fellow Wardens; the strangers who had turned up at the Tower with her friend, exactly when the mages had needed them most; who had somehow managed to not only kill Uldred, but had helped convince the Knight-Commander to accept Wynne as the new First Enchanter, and then turn around and pledge his templars to help against the Blight. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Two more people and a mabari, of all things, had joined Gloria and the others when they reached the docks of Lake Calenhad. As Gloria was studying them curiously, Aedan gestured to her. "Alistair, Leliana. This is Gloria, a healer from the Tower. She's to join the Wardens; Lilyth says she's a skilled mage whose magic will be helpful, and the First Enchanter didn't disagree."

_Well of course not,_ Gloria thought. _Since she now has her two problem children, Lilyth and myself, away from the Tower._

Alistair regarded her with what Gloria thought was suspicion, but Leliana stepped forward with a pleasant smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Gloria."

"Um, likewise," Gloria said, somewhat startled by her accent. In the Tower, she had known only a handful of Orlesian mages, but Leliana's accent seemed a bit different. Similar, to be sure, but her words had a lyrical tone to them. It was nice to listen to.

"Alistair," Aedan continued, this time looking at Gloria, "is our brother Warden. And Leliana is a sister of the Chantry, who has offered to help us end the Blight."

Gloria's dark eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into her hairline. A sister? Well, no wonder Leliana seemed so cheerful and sweet, if she had spent her life cloistered with the mothers and brothers. She couldn't help but wonder what skills a sister could possibly offer to the Wardens. It wasn't like the darkspawn would disappear if one prayed hard enough.

The sister seemed to find Gloria's not-so-subtle surprise amusing. "Yes, it is true. I am indeed a sister of the Chantry." She gave Gloria the most beguiling wink. "The Maker has given us all talents, and I find that mine are quite useful against the darkspawn."

Gloria opened her mouth to comment, but shut it quickly. She was supposed to be making friends with these people, right? Remarking that she'd believe that only when she saw it probably wasn't the best way to endear herself to the others. She glanced at Lilyth, wondering what her friend–who abhorred the Chantry as much as the Dalish elves were said to–had to say about this. But, all she got was an ambiguous shrug.

"And this," Aedan said, running his hands over the mabari who sat by his feet, "is Fang. The best warrior we have in our group."

"Ouch, did you have to say that right in front of me?" Alistair asked, putting a hand to his chest. "You're going to hurt my feelings, you know."

Fang barked cheerfully, his little nub tail wagging frantically, and Aedan grinned. "Sorry, Alistair, but you know it's true."

"Sure, sure, brag about the mutt," Alistair grumbled. "But, next time you could at least wait until I'm not right here."

With the introductions over, Aedan turned to Alistair and Leliana and told them what had happened in the Tower. Gloria listened as dispassionately as she could, but she found herself moving over to her friend, almost as if to draw support from her presence. No matter what the situation, Lilyth could always be counted on to be determined and firm, and Gloria found that she appreciated that just then.

Aedan gave the most factual, pragmatic account of what had happened, and Gloria had to suppress the urge to interrupt him and tell them what really had happened; how she and the others had been going about a normal day, gossiping and studying, when they had heard the first crashes; how the abominations, demons, and mages had suddenly burst through the doors, grabbing them and dragging them through the Tower.

She wanted to tell them how she had watched Uldred torture Irving and her friends, mages she had known her whole life; how much it had hurt when he had turned to her, and his voice had ripped through her mind; how, after so long, it had taken every inch of willpower she possessed to resist the temptation to just give in and make the pain go away. She had laughed about it after, but only to disguise her terror.

She wanted to tell them how she would be grateful for every day alive. Not a very religious mage, when she had been put to bed last night and was finally alone, she had pitched to her knees and thanked Andraste for sending Lilyth and the others when she had. Whether it was Andraste herself or, as Lilyth so firmly stated, nothing more than luck, Gloria would be forever grateful.

"Gloria?"

"Hm?" She blinked, coming back to her senses, and saw the others staring at her. "Oh, sorry. Guess I was a bit lost there. What did you say?"

"I asked how you were feeling," Aedan said a bit hesitantly. "I know Wynne said you were fine to travel, but you've been through a lot. If we leave now, we can get a decent start towards the Brecilian Forest. But, if you're tired, we can stay here one more day."

"Oh. No, I'm fine." Annoying as she was, Wynne was a master healer. After healing their wounds, and insisting that they stay at least one night in the Tower–so that she could keep an eye on them–she had declared them fit for travel. Besides, Gloria was eager to get on the road and put that nightmare with Uldred and the demons behind her.

Aedan nodded and, after checking with Leliana to make sure they were well stocked with the things they'd need for their journey, led them out of the small village. There, at the entrance, Gloria was surprised to see them meet up with a dwarven merchant and his son.

His name, she learned, was Bodahn, and his son was Sandal. Lilyth told her that, although the two of them occasionally left to add to their wares–though Bodahn was always a bit evasive about where he went–for the most part, he and his son traveled with the Wardens. They had a horse and cart which carried all of their goods, thereby freeing the others from their burdens while they walked.

As they started their journey down the Imperial Highway, Gloria found herself growing increasingly curious as to what had happened to Lilyth since she had left the Tower. In her experience–and she thought she knew Lilyth pretty well–the elven mage liked to rely on appeal to attract others. Gloria had seen her turn on the charm numerous times to enchant or seduce others, typically the templars. There was a certain sort of fantastic irony to a female mage seducing a templar, something Gloria and Lilyth had never tired of. She had seen Lilyth widen her eyes and peer innocently at others, affecting an entrancing look that got her almost anything she wanted.

Of course Gloria knew it was only an act, one she had often employed herself; an amusing act designed to help stifle the boredom of tedious days. But, she noticed that Lilyth didn't seem to be relying on charm or charisma any longer. As the day wore on, she noticed that her friend seemed to hold herself away from the others. The only person she appeared to get along with was the pretty apostate, Morrigan. More and more curious, Gloria thought about asking Lilyth about the situation but, as they hiked along the Imperial Highway, she didn't get the chance.

It seemed as though the others had an order in which they liked to travel. Aedan walked at the front of the group with his mabari and Leliana, who had a map out and was pointing to various paths they could take. Bodahn took control of the horse and rode in the cart with his son, with Lilyth and Morrigan walking beside them. Gloria could hear a bit of their conversation; something about a grimoire found in Irving's study. Always curious, she considered going up and asking what they were talking about but, in the end, decided against it. She'd have plenty of time to talk to Lilyth later and, for now, she was content to walk behind the cart and just watch the others.

After they had stopped for a short break and quick meal of bread and dried fruit, Gloria found herself walking beside the warrior, Alistair. Known in the Tower for a wide variety of tastes, Gloria couldn't help but notice what a handsome man he was. She might learn to be quite okay with the Wardens if they had other members like him. At the very least, he provided a welcome distraction from her thoughts about the previous few days.

"So, Alistair," she said after a while, in an effort to start a conversation. "Didn't Aedan say you were a warrior?"

"That's right. The warrior who apparently falls second to a mabari."

Though the words were, at face value, somewhat bitter, Gloria got the impression that Alistair was making a joke. "Well," she said cheerfully, "you know what they say about mabaris. Clever enough to speak; wise enough to know not to. I've never seen one myself, but if they're that smart he could probably understand what Aedan said. It never hurts to be on the good side of a war hound, right?"

"Oh, he's smart all right. Almost _too_ smart." Alistair adopted the most adorable little pout. "I swear he's got it out for me. He rolls around in my bedroll, getting fur everywhere and stinking the whole thing up. And, when I set up my tent, he climbs in and digs around in the ground trying to bury the sticks he finds. But, of course, he inevitability leaves just a small part poking up, so that when I try to lie down I get jabbed in the back!"

Gloria couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Maybe he's trying to tell you something? That you keep setting up your tent in the wrong place?"

"He's not trying to tell me anything. He's just a pain in the arse." Alistair grew quiet for a minute, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Gloria followed the line of his vision and noticed him watching Lilyth and Morrigan. "Uh, so I hope you don't mind me asking, but I think Aedan mentioned that you and Lilyth are friends?"

"That's right," she said carefully, wondering where he was going with this. She knew that Lilyth had a habit of flirtation. Depending on one's view, she was either a woman with a healthy appetite or a whore. Of course, the same could be said about Gloria herself. And, Alistair was a handsome man; had Lilyth been toying with him? If so, Gloria would have to ask her how he was in bed, assuming they had gotten that far.

"I didn't think someone like her had any friends."

Now that caught Gloria off guard for a moment, at least until she realized what must have happened. When it dawned on her, she chuckled. "I see. Has she dropped the whole 'look what an innocent little elf I am' routine in favor of her more natural state of 'I hate you all'?"

"I don't think I have ever heard 'Lilyth' and 'innocent' in the same sentence." The strange voice, suddenly right beside her, forced Gloria to twist around. She saw the elf, Zevran, walking right next to her and jumped. Shit! She hadn't even heard him approaching!

"Uh, well, she's not really," Gloria explained once her heart had stopped pounding. Maker, where had he learned to walk so quietly? "But, it's always fun to act, right? Half the people in the Tower thought we were these sweet little mages who had never had an impure thought in our lives."

Alistair made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an impatient scoff. "And people actually bought this?"

Gloria was more than a little annoyed at his words. If he didn't like Lilyth, fine. But that was no reason to say things like that to her friend. "Everyone except Wynne, and some of the other Seniors," she said, a bit of arrogance slipping into her voice. "But they're all old and grouchy anyway. It's surprisingly easy to make people see what they want to see. And people, especially men, always want to think that a woman is sweet and innocent. Lilyth taught me that."

Besides, it was just a fun game they had played. What else had there been to do in the Tower? Learn your magic, attend services, keep out of trouble, avoid demons. Every day was repetitive and boring, and the mages had had to do _something_ to make life interesting. Some had devoted their lives to study or religion. Others had liked to play jokes and cause trouble. Lilyth and Gloria, along with some of the others, had liked to engage in more private activities. What was the harm in any of it?

"How long have you known her?" Zevran asked.

"Hm, I'm not sure. Almost ten years, maybe? I met her the first night she came to the Tower." Gloria didn't add the circumstances of Lilyth's arrival, having no idea if she wanted it known.

Lilyth had been old for a mage newly brought to the Tower–just over sixteen–and rumors had swirled about the circumstances of her arrival. They said she had used magic to kill an intruder, an intruder that had murdered her family. Lilyth herself, though she didn't deny what had happened, claimed that she had had no clue about her magic, that killing the intruder was the first time she had learned she was a mage. Of course no one believed that, and it was widely assumed that she was just a young apostate who had tried to hide from the Chantry; a common enough occurrence.

"And, you're completely okay with her magic?" Alistair asked sharply. "Or are you a blood mage, too?"

Her whole body went cold and she stopped dead in her tracks, forcing the two men to stop and look back at her. "What did you just say?"

"You didn't know?" Zevran asked curiously.

Without realizing it, Gloria's hands were balled up so tightly into fists that her nails cut into her palms. "No! You're... you're lying, aren't you? This is some sort of cruel joke, right?"

Neither man said anything, and Gloria's eyes trailed ahead to her friend, who had stopped walking. Lilyth hadn't bothered to turn around and look at her, but Gloria knew she had heard what they had said. How many times had she bragged that elven hearing was better than humans'? She stood completely rigid and, in that moment, Gloria had the horrible understanding that what Alistair had said was true.

Barely realizing what she was doing, Gloria stormed forward, her pulse hissing in her ears, her heart thudding against her chest. Snatching Lilyth by her upper arm with an iron grip, she forced the woman to twist around and seized her by her thin shoulders, her nails digging into Lilyth's flesh.

"You're a blood mage?" she hissed, shaking her friend as if to jolt answers forth. "_A blood mage?_" Dimly, she was aware of everyone else stopping, of the horse jerking and sidling as the cart was yanked to a halt, of so many faces turning to gawk at her. But, Gloria could only stare at her friend. Her friend who suddenly seemed like a stranger.

"A blood mage who saved your life," Lilyth said coldly. "Who rescued you from the Tower and brought you freedom." She didn't flinch, didn't bother to pull from Gloria's painful grasp. She only stood as still as a marble statue, looking Gloria in the eyes as if she had nothing to be ashamed of!

What the Void was going on here? Blood mages were evil! How could Lilyth, her best friend, turn to such twisted, loathsome magic? Thousands of thoughts darted through Gloria's mind, but the one that bothered her the most... "How long?" she demanded.

The blood mage's chin lifted defiantly. "I learned the art as a child."

Her words felt like a punch to the stomach. "So, the whole time I've known you–"

"Yes."

Gloria flung Lilyth away from her, her cheeks flushed with rage. "How could you? Did you not see the damage they caused in the Tower? The innocent people they killed? The _demons_? And you... you're _one_ of them!"

The blood mage wobbled for a minute as she sought to regain her footing after being flung away so violently but, when she straightened up, the first flashes of anger crossed her face. "How _dare_ you," she spat out. "Accuse me of whatever you like, but do not _dare_ to compare me to those fools who would pledge themselves to a demon! Who would slaughter children and force others into demonic slavery!"

"Gloria!" She twisted around to see Aedan right beside her, a hand on the hilt of his dagger and a dangerous look on his face. "Enough! Now is _not_ the time for this fight."

" 'Tis true," Morrigan commented lazily, glancing around the vacant road. "All we need is for some hapless farmer or merchant to hear your frantic screaming, and then we shall have the templars on our hands."

"But she's–"

"We _know_ what she is," Aedan interrupted sharply. "And her skills have been useful. The Wardens accept all magic and you _will _accept it, too."

Gloria couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had the whole world gone mad? How could they stand there and just accept a blood mage? Didn't they know what blood mages could do? Gloria had a whole Tower full of devastation and countless dead friends to prove the damage blood mages could cause.

Aedan, watching her closely, let out a sigh and moved his hand away from his dagger, all the anger leaving his face. "This isn't the Tower, Gloria."

"How can you say that? Didn't you see what the blood mages did? Look at Uldred! Look at all the death he caused! And... and now..." And now her friend was one of them.

"I am not Uldred," Lilyth said with quiet indignation. "And if you truly believe that I am, then we have nothing more to say to each other."

Gloria stared at her for a few minutes, torn between the desire to keep screaming or just cry. It was just too much. In the space of barely a week, she had seen her home destroyed and her friends killed. She had left her home for the first time since childhood and now her best friend, who she had never expected to see again, was a blood mage.

"Look, you can fight about this later," Aedan said, his tone making it clear there was no room for argument. "But for now, you will keep quiet until we set up camp."

With nothing else to do or say, Gloria reluctantly nodded, and they continued down the Imperial Highway in silence. While they traveled, neither she nor Lilyth said anything to each other. In fact, they did everything they could not to even notice one another.

oOo

Lilyth dipped her bare feet in the cool stream, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the hint of stars peeking through the canopy of trees. It was a quiet night, so quiet that Lilyth could hear the others going about their tasks back at the camp, though she did her best to ignore them. Hopefully, they would all return the favor and give her some peace.

Away from the fires, her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she watched the flowing stream, trying to focus on the soft sound of the sinuous water. If Lilyth believed in the Maker, she would have laughed at His irony; to have found her friend alive, to have been able to save her from the templars' grasp... and now this. Of course, she didn't believe in the Maker, and so she was able to see this as nothing more than her own foolishness.

Clearly, she had been wrong to assume that Gloria's friendship had never had a price attached to it, for here was one now! It was almost funny to think of the many times Lilyth had toyed with the idea of telling Gloria that she was a blood mage. In the end, she had always decided it was too much of a risk, and obviously she had been correct in her caution.

Of course, she _was_ just a tiny bit disappointed. But, only a small bit. She had always thought that Gloria was above the other mages, who only believed what the Chantry taught them; wrong about that, too. Really, it seemed that Lilyth had been wrong about a lot of things regarding Gloria.

She pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees, staring out at the water. How many times would she be forced to endure such verbal assaults? All because of her magic. It seemed to Lilyth that blood mages were quite right to hide their talents. Not because of the Chantry's view, of course, but because of all the misconceptions one was forced to deal with.

Such insanity! Did none of them stop to think? How could they honestly believe that blood magic required demonic possession? How could they truly think that Lilyth was powerful enough to wave her hand and somehow control everyone around her? Tch. If she could do _that_ so easily, she certainly wouldn't have had to deal with all this screaming and fighting. She could just control their minds and force them to accept her magic. Was she the only person in Thedas blessed with common sense?

A sharp, harsh crunch of a branch being snapped in half caused Lilyth to jump slightly. She instantly reached for the knife lying next to her and slowly turned around to see–as if she had really had to guess–the assassin, walking towards her with a smile on his face.

With a huff of annoyance, she let go of the knife and turned back to the stream. Why did he have to come bother her now? Couldn't he leave her alone for once in his miserable life? "What do you want, assassin?"

Zevran came towards the stream and sat down, uninvited, next to her, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands as if they were friends who enjoyed each other's company, rather than reluctant allies who didn't trust one another. "You have been gone for quite a while, so I thought to make sure you hadn't been attacked." His grin widened. "Or slit your wrists and turned into an abomination. I hear it is the only thing blood mages do these days."

Despite her irritation, Lilyth gave a hard chuckle. "You have no fear that I will suddenly burst into a demon and take over your mind? Strange, I thought you were convinced that I had some terrible plan to hand you back to the Crows at my earliest convenience."

The assassin laughed. "Oh, I didn't say that you aren't still planning to do just that. But, handing me over to the Crows has nothing to do with demons, does it?"

Lilyth scowled at the stream in front of her, annoyed that he still expected such things of her. "Zevran," she said coldly, using his name for the first time since asking Aedan to spare him, "do you honestly think I would hand you over to such slavery?"

The assassin was quiet for a moment, as if genuinely thinking it over. "You always say the word 'slavery.' There are some in the Crows who would not agree with your choice of words."

"It _is_ slavery," she said with a shrug. "To be in a situation where your choices and free will are taken from you. That is a form of slavery, and I will have nothing to do with it. So, no, I would not hand you back to the Crows. No matter how much you irritate me." She shifted uncomfortably and glanced back towards the camp. "Where is Gloria?"

"When I left, she was talking with Aedan and Morrigan."

"Is she..." Lilyth swallowed down the question, unable to bring herself to ask it.

But, Zevran seemed to know what she had almost said. "She does not seem to be angry any longer. If anything, she is quietly asking questions about it."

Not for all the power and knowledge of the Imperium would Lilyth ever admit how grateful she was to hear that. Instead, she turned her head away as if the matter had nothing to do with her. Indeed, it really didn't. If Gloria chose to blindly judge without understanding, so be it. Lilyth didn't care.

"I _do _have a question of my own, though, if I may," Zevran continued. "Gloria's reaction to your blood magic has got me wondering something."

Lilyth sighed. "You _always_ have questions, assassin. But, as I am too weary to dance around with you, I suppose I might answer one."

Strangely enough, Zevran didn't make a joke about her words. Instead, he looked at her with a rare seriousness in his expression. "Well, I find myself wondering _why_ you learned blood magic in the first place." Lilyth's head came up sharply, but he continued. "I understand that you say it's powerful and, from what I've seen, it is. But, even if you never contacted a demon and suffer no risk of becoming an abomination, why learn it? Surely the Chantry will still want to kill you, if they ever learn of it. Why would you risk it?"

"I am at the same risk of attracting a demon as any other mage, though perhaps a bit more," Lilyth clarified. "That is to say, if a demon were to find me, it would be enticed by my magic, more so than a normal mage. But, so long as I avoid demonic notice, I do not risk it."

"Still, why learn it at all?"

Lilyth crossed her legs and rested her elbow on her knees, wondering what she should tell him. Should she, perhaps, make up a lie? Or tell him that it was none of his business? Yes, that would be the best idea.

But, strange though it was, a very small part of her wished to tell someone what had happened. Why, though? To gain understanding? No, she didn't care about that. She didn't care if the whole world hated her for her blood magic, so long as it made her strong enough to find Letia someday. And, she would rather die than be given sympathy.

Although... this situation with Gloria...

"I was not given a choice in the matter," she finally said.

Zevran looked at her as if that wasn't the response he had expected. "You weren't?"

"No." Lilyth took care to keep her voice neutral. "Mistress Brinna... she is a powerful Tevinter Magister. A powerful blood mage. Some of the children she took in were mages; actually, she preferred to have mages and she taught us blood magic. We were not given the chance to refuse."

"Why would she teach you blood magic? Were you her apprentices?"

Lilyth scowled. "I thought you said you had only _one _question."

The assassin nodded. "I did. However, as is often the case, I find that one answer inevitably leads to another question."

Against her better judgment, Lilyth found herself answering honestly. "She had no desire to take us in as her apprentices. She taught us blood magic, yes, but only as a way to control us. We could hardly run to the templars if we ourselves were blood mages. We are maleficarum; the Chantry would kill us on sight. How could we survive without her protection?"

"Yet, you did run away."

"I decided that I would rather risk death than stay. Eight years in the brothel, and I had seen enough."

"Yes, I imagine so." Zevran was solemn for a moment, but then he grinned at Lilyth. "Thank you for answering my questions. You can ask me something in exchange, if you like. It is only fair, yes?"

Grateful for the change in topic, Lilyth gave a short laugh. "You only wish to attempt to impress me with stories of your exploits."

"Of course. There are few things in life more enjoyable than impressing a dark haired beauty."

"But, that is based on the assumption that you could ever impress me."

Zevran put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "You wound me, _mujer de hielo_. I am a master assassin! _Anyone_ would be impressed by my accomplishments."

Lilyth found herself smiling. "Really? Because I have only seen you attempt one assassination. And that attempt failed, if you recall."

"Ah, yes," Zevran said fondly. "But, it is a failure I will never regret. All that fighting, blood flowing, and then I woke up bound and gagged with a gorgeous woman standing over me."

Lilyth scoffed and turned back to stare out at the stream. "You never cease with the flattery, do you?"

"It is not flattery to speak the truth. You're a gorgeous woman. That is the truth."

"I am well aware of _that_, assassin," she replied haughtily. "What I meant was that I do not need you to tell me." His sharp bark of laughter greeted her words, causing Lilyth to frown. As always, she felt that he was laughing at _her_, rather than her words, and she was irritated by it. "Very well," she said, thinking to wipe the smile from his face. "Since you said I may ask a question, I will ask this: why did you join the Crows?"

Zevran stopped laughing, yes, but her question didn't exactly have the intended reaction. She had meant to ask something that would bother him and make him uncomfortable, but he seemed strangely cheerful about it. "Ah, I didn't join by choice, my lovely Warden. I was but a boy of seven when I was sold to the Crows."

Lilyth stared at him. "You were... sold?"

"Yes. For three sovereigns, I am told. Which is a good price, really, given that I barely knew the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end."

Lilyth pressed her lips together and said nothing.

"I imagine you know how it is," he continued casually. "As I doubt you went to your Mistress by choice."

"No," she admitted. "I was sold by my father, though I do not know how much Mistress Brinna paid. I was told that it was quite a decent sum."

The assassin straightened up and studied her with a look she couldn't read. "Your father was the one who sold you?"

Lilyth inclined her head. "Indeed. He and Mother did not wish to deal with the problems of a mage child. Instead of sending me to the Tower, I suppose they opted to make a bit of coin off of me to feed my brothers." Not exactly the truth of the situation, but as close to it as she cared to go.

This seemed to give Zevran something to think about, and the two sat in silence for a time. Lilyth was quite intrigued to learn that the assassin had been sold to the Crows. Now that she thought about it, she did see how it seemed fitting. After all, she knew a bit about how they found their assassins, although she also knew that there were those who joined willingly.

Still, she had the thought that, provided Zevran was actually telling the truth, perhaps his reasons for abandoning the Crows were similar to _her _reasons for abandoning the Mistress. While that didn't mean she would trust his intentions so easily, perhaps it _did _mean that she need not fear a dagger being plunged into her back.

After a while, she took in a breath, knowing that there was one other thing she must ask him, though she was loathe to do so. "Zevran, I do have another question for you. Well, I suppose it is more like a request."

"Oh?" That familiar, maddening grin slowly spread over his face. "You are behaving so strangely today! Just yesterday you were demanding that I leave your presence, and yet now you're telling me all your dark secrets and showing an interest in my own life. Soon enough, you'll be inviting me back to your tent, just as I predicted when we first met. I knew it was bound to happen."

Why, _why _must he be so infuriating? Lilyth clicked her tongue impatiently and shifted to her knees, preparing to stand up and storm back to the camp. "Ugh, forget I said anything."

Zevran started laughing. "No, no, I will stop teasing you. You are just so easy to anger. But, I am done for now. Ask your question."

"I have changed my mind," she retorted peevishly.

"I've said before that you are a horrible liar, yes? That is still true."

"Oh, very well." She sat back down, making sure to look as reluctant as possible. The last thing she needed was for him to know how important this was. "I wished to know if you would be willing to teach me to fight with daggers, as you and Aedan do." She hesitated. Now that the words were out, she thought that she probably would have done better to ask Aedan himself. But, of the two, she had thought that Zevran would have more of an opportunity to teach her, since Aedan was often busy. "I can pay you, if you wish, from the coin Aedan divides among us."

"But, you're a mage," Zevran said slowly. "Learning to fight as I do is something that takes time. Why wouldn't you wish to keep to your magic?"

Lilyth gritted her teeth, not at all happy at having to admit she needed aid. "As you are no doubt aware, I do not use a staff, since a knife is easier for my blood magic." She held up her right hand, which had been broken until the old hag Wynne had healed it. "When my hand was broken, I was forced to see that I do not have the skill to fight with my left hand. I was never trained to. I have never needed to. But, it occurred to me that perhaps now I should learn to fight with daggers. I can think of many benefits to it."

The assassin grinned like a thief who had just acquired an expensive object. "I can teach you, if you like. Unfortunately, it would take years to master the skills of an assassin, but I can at least show you how to fight well enough to defend yourself."

"Thank you," Lilyth said awkwardly, not at all liking his grin. "As I said, I can pay you what I have."

But, Zevran waved that comment aside, his smile widening. "No, you don't have to give me coin. I can think of many other ways you can repay me."

So, that was why he looked so pleased with himself. He thought he had an advantage. "I will not do anything like _that_, assassin."

Far from being disturbed by her anger, Zevran instead seemed to find it extremely humorous. "Ah, you can't blame a man for trying."

He never even expected her to agree! So, that comment had been made for the sole purpose of irritating her? Lilyth sat back on her heels, regarding him with weary vexation. "Will you never stop?"

"Why would I, when it's so much fun?"

Ugh, he would never tire of harassing her, would he? "So, if you _do _help me learn how to fight with daggers, this is what I can expect in addition to the lessons? Constant flirtation and innuendo?"

"Is there not a saying about that? Something about doing what you love?"

Foolish question of hers, wasn't it? Of _course _that's what she could expect from him. Why would she ever have thought differently?

Lilyth narrowed her eyes, but it had no effect. If anything, he looked even more amused. Very well. If the game was to irritate, shock, or annoy, she could play it, too. So far, she had avoided playing along simply because it seemed more trouble than it was worth. She highly doubted anything she said would annoy him, so her only option was shock. Still, if it was the only way to shut him up, then so be it. She had no real objections, other than the fact that she refused to sleep with him.

She gave him a defeated sigh, hoping to catch him off guard. "Then, I suppose I have no other option, do I? Perhaps you simply need to get this out of your system? And then you can relax and stop harassing me?"

She could have laughed to see his startled expression. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, perhaps you need to simply get some of this desire out of your system."

"No, no I heard what you said." He stared at her. "What I want to know is: what exactly do you have in mind?"

Instead of answering, Lilyth leaned forward and took hold of the front of his shirt, pulling him towards her and pressing her lips against his. Really, as a method of shutting him up and catching him off guard, she had to admit that it worked like a charm; far better than anything she could have said. His eyes were as huge as saucers as she kissed him and lightly bit his bottom lip. If this was all it took, she really should have done this ages ago.

Unfortunately, however, such luck was destined to end, especially as Lilyth couldn't resist the urge to flaunt her triumph. "There," she said lightly, pulling away a fraction of an inch. "At last you are quiet."

She felt, rather than saw, his lips curve up into a smile. His surprise ended rather quickly and with it, his silence. "Had I known you would be so quick to use this method, I would have suggested it quite a long time ago."

Her sharp, irritable retort was cut off as he pressed closer, his tongue grazing her lips. Despite herself, Lilyth was drawn into the kiss. How long had it been since she had last been with a man? Since before Duncan had taken her from the Tower; quite a while, actually. Zevran's fingers twisted in her hair, curling around to cup the back of her head. Lilyth reminded herself not to enjoy this too much as his lips moved to lightly graze along her jaw. He was an assassin, after all, not unlike the men she had known in the brothel. Men taught to seduce; to enchant and entice a target into lowering their guard.

Still, there was no reason to hate it completely, was there? She could at least enjoy the moment for what it was, with no harm done. He came back to claim her mouth and she parted her lips; Zevran was quick to take full advantage of this, sliding inside to deepen the kiss. Really, she shouldn't enjoy this so much. But, he did know what he was doing. One might say he was almost as talented as she.

She felt his hand press against her back, gently pulling her into his lap, and she went with it. No harm in this. It wasn't like she was going to sleep with him. Of course not. But, at least this might be enough to possibly get some of his obvious desire out of his system. Then, perhaps he'd stop harassing her so much. And, since she enjoyed the sensation of his chest pressed against hers as he held her to him, where was the trouble? Besides, she did like the feel of the muscles in his shoulders. As his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, her hands gripped his shoulders, massaging them through the fabric of his shirt.

"Ahem."

Lilyth immediately broke away from Zevran, jerking out of his lap and twisting around to see Gloria standing with her hands on her hips. The woman arched an eyebrow and studied the two of them. "Oh, don't mind me."

"What do you want, Gloria?" Lilyth asked sharply, more irritated at being interrupted than she cared to admit.

"Nothing at all," the brunette retorted. "You know, I only came to talk to my friend and hopefully try to figure out how to deal with her being a blood mage. But, by all means, please continue. It's not like trying to find a way to salvage our relationship is anything important. Although, I will say that if you're aiming for a tumble, I'd suggest at least hiding behind the bushes. Anyone could easily find you here. Unless you _want_ an audience, of course."

Lilyth jumped to her feet, scowling. "That is–no, we were not–" She lifted her chin, doing her best to keep her arrogant sneer. "You are quite mistaken. What you saw was only a kiss."

"Sure," Gloria said. "And Kinloch Hold is _only_ a building. Say what you like, but I had a very nice view there. And what I saw would make the Divine herself blush."

Zevran burst out laughing and climbed to his feet, looking much more calm than Lilyth. "Next time, let us know you're there, my dear. Had I known we had an audience, I would have given you much more to look at." He gave the woman a saucy wink and then turned a grin towards Lilyth. "I'll leave you both alone, as I'm sure you have much to talk about. But, I must say that I do like that method of keeping me quiet. If you promise to do more next time, I might even go completely mute." Still laughing, he sauntered back towards the camp.

Stupid, damnable, infuriating assassin! Never again! She would _never_ again let that man touch her! Far from catching him off guard, somehow the tables had turned and now _she _was the one standing speechless. Damn it!

"So, I take it he's the one you're aiming for?" Gloria asked, watching him walk away with a bit of a grin.

"Not at all," Lilyth huffed. "I hate that man."

"Really? That's not the impression _I _got."

It took a lot of effort for Lilyth not to stomp her foot and storm away. "What do you want, Gloria? Are you here to shout at me again for my magic?"

The woman scowled. "I _will_ start shouting again if you don't stop acting so bitchy."

"Me? _You _are the one who physically grabbed me earlier. You know, I have bruises on my shoulders from where you assaulted me."

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry! It's just... you _saw _what blood mages did in the Tower! You saw how Uldred..." Gloria paused and took in a breath, closing her eyes for a minute. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just... it was a lot to handle, although I guess I didn't really handle it well at all. But, I'm here now because I want to talk to you about it. Not scream. Talk."

Lilyth studied Gloria's pale face for a moment, trying to judge if she was being honest. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Gloria twisted strands of her cropped hair in her fingers. "Look I... I talked to the others and, well... I've learned a bit more about the situation. They all told me–even Alistair, who _really_ doesn't like you by the way–that you're not an abomination. That you have nothing to do with demons."

"Tch. I could have told you that."

"Well, yes, but I probably wouldn't have believed you. I mean, trusting the blood mage when they say they're not going to harm you? I may have my moments, but I'm not completely stupid. The others... well, I mean, with Alistair's disgust for your magic I doubt he'd lie about it. So, I just want to know why."

Lilyth narrowed her eyes. "Why... what?"

"Why did you learn it? Just... I want to understand what happened."

Lilyth sighed and rubbed her forehead, where a headache was pounding against her skull. Did she really want to repeat this again? She already seriously regretted telling that horrid assassin anything. Besides, she had saved Gloria from Uldred, and helped free her from the Tower. She didn't owe her anything else, did she?

"Lilyth?" Gloria was watching her, her face firm. "You know I'm not going to let this go, so you might as well just tell me."

Damn it. She did know that. Gloria had a remarkably stubborn streak. Normally, it was something Lilyth admired but, now, with that stubbornness turned against _her_, she could have done without it.

Still, her life would be much more difficult if she didn't give Gloria some kind of explanation. She couldn't tell her everything, of course, but, perhaps enough to satisfy her. Lilyth didn't mind someone like Alistair constantly whining about her magic, but Gloria would be more of a problem. Alistair was too afraid to do anything more than whine loudly and give her a headache. But Gloria... well, _she'd_ harass Lilyth directly.

"Very well," she sighed. "I will tell you what happened."

oOo

"Honestly, Alistair. Please explain to me how you managed to tear _every _single sock you own."

The templar grinned like a boy caught with his hand in a candy jar and helped himself to another bowl of stew. "We're not exactly living in the lap of luxury here, Leli. All this walking, fighting, and rough sleeping. Clothes tend to get torn, you know."

Leliana frowned at the sock in her hand. Torn wasn't the word she'd have used to describe it. Shredded seemed more appropriate. She wasn't even sure if it was worth mending. "Well, you're going to want to learn how to mend them yourself. After I finish these, you are on your own."

Alistair made some protest about how every time he tried to mend his own clothes, he managed to get his sleeve attached to the sock, so it was unfair of her to make him do it. But, Leliana only laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing to the pile of clothes he had given her. If she continued to offer to help him, she'd never get anything else accomplished.

Deciding to take a short break, Leliana set the sock aside and picked up a free bowl, helping herself to some of the evening meal. Night had fallen in earnest, and the camp was slowly beginning to quiet down. Aedan, after eating and talking for a while with Gloria, had finally taken Leliana's advice and gone to sleep; curled up next to Fang in the tent they shared. The poor man looked so exhausted, and she had assured him that she and Alistair could take the first watch for the night.

Morrigan, as was her habit, sat near her own fire set a bit away from the others, her nose buried in a black book she had brought back from the Tower. Bodahn and his son were fast sleep, after taking care of the horse–the horse with no name that Leliana had decided to call Copper, in honor of his lovely coat–and the others were off near the stream.

As she took a few spoonfuls of the delicious stew–Morrigan might be rather difficult at times, but she sure knew how to cook–Leliana spotted Zevran walking back to the camp with a bit of a swing in his walk. She noted the satisfied grin on his face as he sat down opposite of the fire and grabbed a bowl of stew.

"Someone looks quite pleased with himself," Leliana remarked.

"Why would I not? When I have such a lovely woman before me," he said without a moment's hesitation.

Leliana giggled quietly. Zevran really was quite the charmer, but Alistair didn't seem to appreciate it. "Maker, don't you ever stop?"

"Forgive me, Alistair. I did not mean to cause you to feel left out. Don't worry, there is plenty of me to go around."

Alistair flushed crimson. "That's not what I meant!"

"Really? Then you are not jealous, wanting more of my attention for yourself?"

Leliana laughed. "Oh, stop teasing him, Zevran. You know what he meant. But, based on your comments, I'm to assume your talk with Lilyth went fine?" She had noticed that the assassin was far more mischievous and puckish when he was in a good mood.

"If by fine, you mean she didn't attempt to stab me in a fit of irritation, then, yes. It went quite fine."

"Shocking," Alistair said dryly. "The blood mage and the assassin get along. Who would've guessed it?"

"Come now, Alistair," Leliana scolded lightly. "She was upset."

"Really? How could you tell? Seems to me she's _always_ upset. You know, someone really ought to tell her that her face is going to be stuck in a permanent scowl if she doesn't try to smile every now and then."

Leliana tried to keep her reproving look, but the mental image of Lilyth's face screwed up into a permanent scowl made her chuckle. "Either way, she _was_ upset. Gloria's reaction to her magic bothered her." Alistair looked at her in surprise, and Leliana tapped her chin curiously. "You didn't notice? Hm. I thought it was rather obvious."

"No, really, how could you tell?"

"The way she walks. Her movements are far more stiff when she is bothered by something." In all honesty, she found Lilyth quite easy to read. She might hold in her thoughts far more than Alistair believed, but her body language almost always gave her away.

"I prefer to operate under the assumption that she's always mad," Zevran said. "Of course, usually she's mad at _me,_ so I'm often right. She gets the most amusing little wrinkle in her forehead when she glares."

"Yet you go out of your way to anger her," Leliana remarked. "And then, when she is so angry that she storms off, you chase after her. I wonder why that is."

"Watching _me_, now, are you?"

Leliana allowed herself a smile. If only he knew how much she watched them all. "I keep track of all of my companions. It is my duty, no? To make sure you are all safe?"

"Then, tell me, my dear, what you have observed."

"Oh, it does not take a genius to guess why you follow after her as you do."

Alistair finally caught what Leliana was not so subtly hinting at. His eyebrows shot up as he turned to stare at Zevran. "No, really? You actually... _like_ her?"

The question, so charmingly innocent, caused Leliana to give a most unladylike snort. "Oh, Alistair! What is there not to like?" she teased. "A beautiful woman like her?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that she's... what was it? Oh, that's right. An amoral blood mage!"

"Fully in control of her magic," Leliana reminded him. "And not some pawn of a demon. After these months of travel, we have seen enough to know that what she said was the truth. In fact, I believe that was the very comment you used when Gloria asked you about it."

The templar shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I wasn't going to lie about it. Gloria was so upset, and I didn't want to lie, so I told her the truth: that Lilyth's a bitch who doesn't care about anyone but herself, but that she _did _seem to be honest when she said she wasn't possessed."

Leliana smiled, proud of Alistair's words. It was good for him to look at Lilyth's magic in a different light. After all, continuous anger hadn't done anything more than cause unnecessary stress and distract him from his tasks. Leliana had spent quite a while trying to talk to him, attempting to get him to look at things from another view. And, while of course he and Lilyth would never be what one would call friends, at least they were no longer at each other's throats all the time.

Leliana herself had an intense dislike for Lilyth's blood magic. She felt that such magic was unnatural and wrong, and nothing Lilyth said or did would change her mind.

However, Leliana also felt that there was more to her than simply an evil blood mage set out to kill everyone. Lilyth seemed to pride herself on keeping her thoughts hidden, but Leliana found her easy to read. If she had to make an educated guess, she'd put coin on the bet that Lilyth's blood magic was not something she had learned simply for the sake of learning it. While she certainly couldn't prove it, Leliana was under the impression that Lilyth was nothing more than a product of horrible circumstances.

What Leliana felt was nothing so sharp as anger or hatred. Rather, she felt pity for Lilyth. Of course, she knew better than to _ever _let that prickly mage know it, but Leliana could not help but feel sorry for her. Something had happened to make her into the person she was. Why else would she watch the world with such hard eyes?

Besides, who knew what would happen in the future? The Blight was a terrible, terrible tragedy that they must stop at all costs but, perhaps, a bit of good could come of it. While Lilyth continued to say that she would leave as soon as they reached Denerim, Leliana was content to wait and see. It was a cold, unfeeling person who could turn their backs on the Blight, and Leliana would only believe it when she saw it.

"She's still a bitch, though," Alistair continued. "I'd say she's worse than Morrigan but, honestly, I can't even tell anymore. It's like they're the same, mean person in two different forms."

Leliana laughed at his description. "One might say that is part of their charm, Alistair."

"What? Evil mages who hate everyone?"

"Beautiful women who give off an air of danger and mystery," she explained.

Alistair stared at her, looking genuinely confused. "You're telling me some people actually enjoy that? A woman who might shove a knife in your throat?"

Zevran laughed over his bowl. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Leliana giggled. "Um, yes, Alistair, some do. Especially where I come from."

"Well, _I _don't get it," Alistair said, helping himself to a third bowl. "But, hey, if you want to chase after Lilyth, Zevran, then be my guest. Maybe you can distract her enough to keep her from harassing me."

"If I am ever given the chance, I will endeavor to do just that," Zevran said cheerfully. "I have a number of ways to keep a woman distracted. In fact, Leliana, if you're curious, I can offer to show you some of them."

"No, thank you." Leliana finished her stew and set the bowl aside for washing later. "We will all have enough distractions once we reach the Brecilian Forest."

"Did you and Aedan decide on a path to take?" Alistair asked.

"Yes. We plan to take the Imperial Highway to the West Road. After we travel on that for a few days, we can take a small passage into the Brecilian Forest. Now, where we will go from there, I do not know. But, I do hope it doesn't take long to find the Dalish. There are so many rumors about the difficult paths in the Brecilian Forest, and I do not care to travel around in circles with the Blight at our heels."

"That is going to be fun," Zevran remarked. "I'm sure the Dalish will absolutely love having a bunch of _shemlen_ and flat-ears storming into their home."

Leliana inclined her head. "It is true that the Dalish have a history of being more than a little violent, but I am hopeful that we can convince them to at least listen to Grey Wardens. The Hero of the last Blight was an elf. Hopefully they will see past our race."

"We don't have a choice," Alistair said. "We need their help against the Blight."

"And that is why we shall do our best," Leliana said. "As there is no other option."

The three of them fell into a companionable silence, listening to the crackle and hiss of the fire, and the occasional rustle as Morrigan flipped through the pages of her book. After a time, when Leliana had finished mending a few of Alistair's shirts, she heard the stirring of something moving near the bushes, and soon saw Lilyth and Gloria walking back towards the camp.

She looked down at her work to hide her smile. The two women weren't exactly walking arm in arm, but there certainly seemed to be far less tension between them. That was good. Leliana believed it would be good for Lilyth to have a friend; someone she could trust. Perhaps, she could even learn to relax and smile once in a while; to see that the whole world wasn't out to hurt her.

With any luck, the result would be that everyone else would be far less tense as well. As Lilyth and Gloria crawled into their separate tents, Leliana lifted her head and looked around the camp. She had come to care about these people, some more than others, and knew that they were going to have to learn to work together to end the Blight. This wasn't like the bards in Orlais. They couldn't do this on their own.

So far, they had managed to do well, but they were going to have to learn to trust one another. Hopefully, they would soon realize it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Woo! Gloria finally gets to join the group. I've been excited about this for a while, especially since she has a fantastic habit of accidentally causing a whole storm of problems. _

_Special thanks to the wonderfully awesome Suilven, for going over this chapter and waving her magical beta wand and fixing all my mistakes. You rock, sweetie._

_Thank you also to everyone who reviewed and read the last chapter, and to those of you requesting alerts. It means a lot!_


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI. The Path Where Beauty Met a Beast**

"_Ora! Dirth ar'en la ma'en sahlin ira'en ar'en isa'dala ma ira'ma rosa!_"

Lilyth couldn't be bothered to restrain her huff of impatience as she studied the two barbaric elves in front of Aedan. What heathens they were! And what was it about elves tattooing their faces? Lilyth had thought that Zevran's facial tattoos were strange and unique but, apparently, it was common enough, for these two Dalish men had designs on their faces as well. Of course, where the assassin's tattoos were graceful and accentuated his cheekbones–something she would _never_ admit to him–these Dalish looked as though some child had scribbled on their faces.

Worse than this was their violence! She and the others had been minding their own business, walking along a path in the Brecilian Forest–as they had been for the past three days–when, suddenly, these two elves had just appeared out of nowhere, shouting in their strange language, and threatening them with their bows and arrows.

Aedan shifted towards Lilyth and bent his head to her. "Say something."

"Why me? Why do you not speak with them? You are the one who wants Dalish help so much."

"You're an elf." Aedan glanced around the group and Lilyth followed suit. She was about to ask why he didn't have Zevran talk to them, but Zevran was gone. So was Leliana. No doubt they were hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike if these elves attacked.

"The Dalish don't like humans," he continued quietly. "You have a better chance of talking to them than I do."

Lilyth waved a hand dismissively. "These elves have as much in common with me as you do with a human mage."

"Still, you're the same race. That's something, right? Maybe they'll be more willing to listen to you."

"Yea, unless you _want_ to get shot," came Gloria's whispered comment from behind them.

Realizing that she had no other choice, Lilyth gave them a defeated, irritated sigh and took a step forward. Immediately, the two elven men had their arrows pointed directly at her–one at her heart, the other at her throat–and Lilyth had to suppress the urge to attack them. One well-placed spell, and both men would be dead before they even realized what was happening.

"_Ora!_" one of the Dalish men snapped.

Lilyth spread her hands in an attempt to look innocent, but she couldn't quite help crinkling her nose up in disdain. "You know, as well as I do, that outsiders do not speak your language. I have read a bit about the Dalish and, from what I understand, you jealously guard all your words. Continuing to shout at me in your elvish tongue has as much effect as yelling at a deaf man."

The second Dalish gave her a superior smile. "We should have expected no less, flat-ear. You and your kind turned your backs on our history long ago."

"Ah, so you _do_ speak the common tongue." Lilyth gave them a sweet smile. "For a moment there, I was worried that you and your companion were too stupid to do anything more than mutter in that dreadful language." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Though, if you should have expected no less, as you say, why speak to us in your language at all? Surely you must have known we would not understand?"

The first Dalish, a man with dirty blond hair that hung loose to his shoulders, tensed. Lilyth got the impression that he was itching to shoot her. "What do you and your _shemlen_ masters want?"

"Masters?" Lilyth laughed in his face. "My dear little barbaric elf, you and your kind have strayed too far from society if you truly think that _every _elf belongs to a human."

The second man, with dark brown hair cropped short, flushed a dull red. "You didn't answer our question."

"As you did not answer mine," Lilyth retorted, before straightening her shoulders. She highly doubted she'd get a straight answer out of these barbarians anyway, so she might as well try to move the conversation forward. She was growing increasingly tired of this horrid forest. The sooner they got Aedan's Dalish allies, the sooner they could leave. Their next destination was Denerim and, once there, Lilyth was free to leave _all_ of this behind.

"We are Grey Wardens," she continued, "come to meet with your Keeper. We have papers in which your people swore to aid the Grey Wardens in their time of need, and we have come to demand that you honor your promise."

"You _demand_?" the blond repeated, his voice tight. "Who are you to demand anything from us?"

"Okay, I _really_ think you should do the talking next time, Aedan."

Lilyth heard Gloria's not-so-quiet whisper, but chose to ignore it. Instead, she faced the two Dalish men, her hands on her hips; a carefully practiced look of arrogance on her face. "As I said, we are Grey Wardens; the Order who once received a promise of aid from one of your Keepers." She raised an eyebrow, taking care to look amused. "Or, do the Dalish not uphold their promises? Do they lie as they claim the humans lie?"

"Watch your words, flat-ear, or they may be your last."

Lilyth turned a scornful gaze to the brown haired elf, who returned her look with unveiled rage. Now she was getting angry. "You call me 'flat-ear'. Are you no better than the humans who call me 'knife-ear'? My name is Lilyth, and you had _better_ call me that when you speak to me."

Aedan, who must have realized that things were quickly escalating into a fight, stepped forward with his hands up. "Please, we didn't come here to fight. I am Aedan Cousland, Commander of the Grey Wardens. A Blight is upon the land, and we have come to _request,_" he threw an annoyed look at Lilyth, "the aid of the Dalish, as you once promised our Order."

"We have nothing to say to you, _shem_," the blond man growled. "Take your servants and leave us."

Aedan didn't move. "I am sorry, but I'm afraid I can't do that. If you refuse to take us to your Keeper, then we'll wait here for your Keeper to come to us. The Blight is a danger that threatens all of Ferelden and, until your Keeper looks me in the eye and tells us to leave, we can't afford to just walk away."

The two elves looked at one another and, after a minute of silence, the brown haired man nodded curtly. The blond turned to them with an angry look. "Very well. We will take you to the Keeper. But, you will keep your hands where we can see them at all times. And know that if you so much as twitch the wrong way, our hunters _will_ strike you down before you even have a chance to draw your weapon."

In Lilyth's opinion, Aedan didn't look very pleased to hear that. Although, come to think of it, she really wasn't either. Did the Dalish truly think they were there to kill them? How suspicious they were. It was no wonder they were hated.

"I understand," Aedan said curtly. He passed a look at the others, clearly telling them to keep their hands away from their weapons.

"Very well," the blond elf said. He twisted on his heel, and he and his companion led the Wardens towards their camp. Quietly, so as not to attract notice, Zevran and Leliana slipped out of the shadows and walked behind the group. The Dalish didn't notice. Or, if they did, they didn't say anything.

They quickly learned that they were closer to the Dalish Clan than they had realized. It didn't take long before they heard the sounds of a group of Dalish going about their day.

Almost as soon as she set foot in the camp, Lilyth paused, as she was immediately confronted by waves of a familiar power. It rippled up her skin, sending chills down her spine and setting her teeth on edge. Lilyth hissed like a cat, snapping her head up and looking around frantically. For one terrible, horrible moment, she thought it was _her_.

"Lilyth? What is wrong?"

The light voice drew Lilyth's attention to Leliana, who was watching her with a look that might be taken as genuine concern. Lilyth scowled at the redhead and looked away. "It is nothing."

But, still the waves of powerful energy rolled towards her, almost as if drawn to her; or, perhaps, beckoning her to come closer. It crackled in the air, danced on her skin; making her feel energetic and dizzy at the same time. It wrapped around her, pushing against the edges of her own natural energy, testing her own power.

It was then that Lilyth noticed something. She knew this energy for what it was, and this was far different from _her_. This magic was much stronger than anything the Mistress had been capable of. But, who? Who had such power that it gave even Lilyth goosebumps?

That was when she saw him.

He stood in the center of the Dalish camp, near one of their strange carts, his chin raised slightly; his whole posture one of command. But, he wasn't angry and defiant. The grip on his staff was light, as if he had nothing at all to fear. There was a young woman standing next to him, but Lilyth quickly dismissed her. That immense power wasn't coming from her.

No, it was the man. The man who looked both ancient and... not so ancient. Lilyth wouldn't have called him young, but he didn't exactly look old either. Certainly not as old as someone like Wynne. And yet... there was something about him that seemed far older than Wynne at the same time.

As the two violent Dalish led them towards this man with the immense power, Lilyth saw that he was watching her, too. But, he wasn't staring in shock, as she was. Instead, he was studying her with a shrewd eye, as if getting the measure of her. Kind knew kind; she had said as much to Aedan after that hapless templar, Cullen, had sworn that no one could identify a blood mage. This man, this ancient and powerful man, would recognize Lilyth for what she was, just as she could feel the power of his own magic.

As they reached the man and his strange cart, Lilyth met his eyes. They stared at each other for a brief moment, during which his head tilted as if he was trying to ask her something, but then he turned to address the two Dalish men before him. "Ah, I see you have brought visitors to our Clan." His tone was that of someone used to being obeyed: abrupt and lofty. "Who are these strangers? I have little patience and even less time to waste on outsiders."

The blond dipped his head. "These strangers claim to be Grey Wardens, Keeper." He gestured to Aedan. "This _sh_–Warden claims to be their Commander, and said they would not leave unless you instructed them to. Given that, we thought it best that you speak to them."

"_Ma serannas_," the Keeper said. "You may both return to your post."

"_Ma nuvenin_, Keeper," the two men said in unison. The brown haired man gave Lilyth a dark look–a look she ignored–as they left without another word.

The Keeper turned his attention to the group, looking over them all carefully, though Lilyth noticed that his eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before he turned to Aedan. "Allow me to welcome you to the Clan, Grey Wardens. As you belong to such a noble order, you will be made welcome while you are here. But, you should know that my people do not trust outsiders, and so I would advise that you not do anything we might consider threatening."

Aedan frowned. "Yes, that was made quite clear to us."

The Keeper shrugged, as if Aedan's irritation was nothing to him. "I am glad you understand." He looked over the group again. "I am Zathrian, Keeper of this Clan, and preserver of its ancient lore. This is my First, Lanaya."

The woman next to him smiled and nodded politely. "_Andaran atish'an_, Grey Wardens. We are pleased to welcome you into the Clan."

"No doubt you have come regarding the treaty we once made with your Order?" Zathrian continued.

For once, Aedan looked taken back. "Uh, yes, we have."

The Keeper smiled at his surprise. "I know many things, young man." The smile faded as he looked over their heads, peering out into the distance as if he could see past the trees. "I have long felt the Blight closing in. The Keepers of the Clans could feel the darkspawn from the moment they first erupted in the Wilds, tainting the ground with their vile steps. I would have already taken the Clan north by now, had we the ability to travel. Sadly, we do not."

Aedan said something in return, but Lilyth was no longer listening. She was too busy staring at Zathrian. Throughout her life, she had lived with a commanding Tevinter Magister, had been in a Tower full of blood mages, had seen the most powerful abomination she could ever imagine, and yet that all paled in comparison to this man.

Where had he found such powerful blood magic? It was unlike anything Lilyth had ever felt before. Was he truly as ancient as she suspected? If so, how had he extended his life? The limited books she had found on the Dalish had claimed that all Dalish had longer lives than most elves, but it hadn't specified how long those lives were. Was Zathrian no more than a normal Dalish man? Or, had he somehow used blood magic to extend his life? Such things were possible, Lilyth knew, but it was a very obscure knowledge. Not even the Magisters of the Imperium knew how.

There was a quiet rustle of movement, and suddenly Zevran was by her side. "What is it?" he whispered.

Brought back to the present, Lilyth realized she was holding herself rigid, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Forcing herself to relax, she debated about whether or not she should say anything to the assassin. If the others found out, especially Alistair and Gloria, they would surely react badly, and what if the Dalish turned on them? Lilyth wanted to speak to Zathrian, to learn what he knew. But, what if Zathrian was an enemy? She could still feel his power tightening around her, pushing on the edges of her magic.

Turning her head as if to take in the sights of the Dalish camp, she shifted so that her lips were near Zevran's ear. "Zathrian is a blood mage; a very powerful one. I can feel it."

The assassin made no movement, no gesture at all to show that her comment surprised him in any way. But, Lilyth saw his eyes narrow as Zathrian led Aedan away from them, towards an area filled with wounded Dalish. Lilyth hadn't noticed them before. Why were they hurt? Was Zathrian using them for his magic, as Mistress Brinna had done to her servants?

"Where is Aedan going?" Lilyth asked.

Gloria turned to look at her. "Weren't you paying attention?" Then she saw Zevran and gave the assassin a wink and a grin. "Never mind, I know where your thoughts were."

"It seems that Zathrian cannot spare any of his men or women for our army," Leliana said. She, for one, didn't seem to find any humor in the situation. Her face was expressionless as she watched Zathrian and Aedan stand over the wounded Dalish. "He said that they were ambushed by a group of werewolves, and that most of his hunters are now severely wounded."

Lanaya, who had been in a whispered conversation with a Dalish woman, turned to the group. "While the Keeper is speaking with your Commander, you are welcome to relax and set up your things. This is Mithra; she will show you where you may rest your head while you are here."

Mithra didn't look at all pleased to be welcoming them to the camp. "You're going to stay near the center of the Clan."

Leliana was suddenly all smiles. "How pleasant! I have always been curious about your people! By staying in the center of the camp, I will have my chance to know you. And, you and your fellow hunters will be able to watch us in return as well, yes?"

Mithra didn't say anything, but the scowl on her face was as good as a verbal confirmation. The Dalish would indeed be watching them. Zevran laughed as he followed the others, and tossed a grin at Lilyth. "And I thought _you_ were suspicious, my lovely Warden."

Lilyth pursed her lips and didn't respond.

oOo

"You _really_ think we should do this?" Alistair asked, looking around the camp to make sure there weren't any Dalish listening.

The sounds of the camp were beginning to quiet down as night fell and the Dalish retreated to their carts, but Lilyth wasn't fooled. She knew that in and around the camp there were a handful of Dalish hunters who watched them from the shadows. Perhaps they couldn't hear what was being said, but they were watching.

They'd been watching all day, even as they gave the Wardens a wide berth; an illusion of privacy in the middle of their camp. Lilyth had seen numerous eyes subtly trained on them as Aedan had come back to the group and had explained why the hunters were wounded, and how Zathrian had asked that they bring back the heart of some wolf named Witherfang, who was their alpha. Apparently, the hunters weren't simply wounded. They were changing. If not healed, they themselves would become werewolves, and their fellow Dalish would have to kill them. But, with the heart of Witherfang, according to Zathrian, the werewolves would die and the hunters would be cured.

At Alistair's question, Aedan was quiet for a moment. "I do," he finally said. "What other choice do we have? Arl Eamon is still sick; without him, we don't have his army. And Knight-Commander Greagoir pledged his templars to our army instead of the mages. We _need_ the Dalish."

"So, you're asking us to hike through the Brecilian Forest–no small feat in itself–and attempt to track down these werewolves hiding in said forest, and _rescue_ these Dalish who would like nothing more than to kill us?" Morrigan, for one, made no attempt to lower her voice. "I say we leave and continue to Denerim. The Blight is coming; we cannot afford to waste our time. We have already wasted enough as it is helping every _other_ fool in Ferelden."

Aedan looked as if he was genuinely considering her words. Then, he sighed. "But, we need them. We can't do this alone. If we help him cure his hunters, Zathrian gave me his word that his Clan will aid us. He even swore that _he_ would fight the Archdemon by our side! And he called his... Chief Hunter, I guess? The man in charge of his hunters, who also gave his word to send a message to the other Dalish Clans."

"And if they turn on their word?" the witch asked.

"We have to hope that they won't," Aedan said. "I promised that we'd set out first thing in the morning. Zevran, Lilyth: you two are going to stay here." Lilyth's head came up at that, but Aedan didn't look at her. "Morrigan, Alistair, Leliana, and Gloria: you four will come with me to find these werewolves. We'll take Fang, too."

"You are leaving me here? With the assassin?" Lilyth asked sharply.

"I would've thought you'd like that," Gloria snorted. She never seemed to tire of harassing Lilyth about that one, horrible kiss she had witnessed. Lilyth studiously ignored her in favor of glaring at Aedan.

"Zathrian asked if I would leave you here." At Lilyth's frown, he shrugged. "I don't really know why. All he said was that he knew you were a mage, and he wanted to ask about your knowledge. Apparently, the Dalish hold elven mages in high regard, even if they're from a city, and he wants to ask you about your training."

Lilyth bit her lip and looked away. Zathrian was lying. Maybe the Dalish _did_ hold mages in high regard, but he knew her for a blood mage. She would bet any amount of coin that he wanted to speak to her about that. But, why? She highly doubted that he was pleased at the thought of meeting another blood mage. Maleficarum were usually suspicious of one another.

Of course, Aedan had no reason to doubt Zathrian's words, since she hadn't told him about the Keeper's blood magic. She hadn't told anyone but Zevran, for fear of setting off another tirade from Alistair or Gloria; which would possibly put them all at risk. For all her strength, Lilyth knew she was no match against Zathrian. Even now, she could feel the rolling waves of his energy surrounding the camp, enfolding it in a blanket of power. And his power was subtle. Even Morrigan, who could recognize most blood mages when she encountered them, seemed to have no idea.

"But, you will need my magic against these werewolves. Especially if they are as strong as Zathrian claims." Lilyth still wanted to speak with the Keeper, but on her own terms. She didn't want to be left behind to fend for herself. What if he saw her as an enemy? She highly doubted the assassin would do anything to aid her.

"Yes, your magic would be very helpful," Aedan said thoughtfully. "But, we'll have Gloria for healing and Morrigan's hexes. We should be fine."

"And why must the assassin stay with me?"

"Because these Dalish clearly don't trust us, and I'd prefer to leave _someone_ here with you. Zevran is an elf; it seems like a better idea than leaving a human."

Lilyth grit her teeth. "Very well." As soon as Aedan and the others left, she had no doubt that Zathrian would want to speak with her. But, that was fine. She wasn't afraid of him.

She wasn't afraid of anyone.

oOo

Aedan and the others left early in the morning, gathering their things and leaving before the sun was fully up. The Dalish turned out to be quite generous to those helping them, and loaded Gloria and Alistair down with dried meat, bread, water, potions, and fresh clothes. Leliana had spoken with Lanaya and had a decent idea of how to navigate the forest. Aedan seemed rather confident when they set out.

As Lilyth had guessed, no more than half an hour after the others had left, she was approached by Lanaya. "The Keeper wishes to speak with you."

Lilyth lifted her head from her precious book–a book on Imperium magic found in Irving's office–with a frown. She'd been expecting this, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "Why?"

"He didn't say, and I didn't ask."

Zevran, who had been grinding deathroot in a mortar Gloria had loaned him, looked up and smiled pleasantly. "I will come with you, my lovely Warden."

"Keeper Zathrian asked for Lilyth only," Lanaya said.

The assassin began putting away his things calmly. "And my commander left me here to guard her."

Lanaya looked as though she wanted to refuse, but then she paused and looked around the camp. The Dalish were all going about their tasks: cooking, sewing, repairing armor, or nursing the wounded. Children were running around gathering sticks, making a game of it to see who could collect more, and the few healthy hunters were practicing in a small clearing.

But, each of them, no matter what they were doing, were watching. Though they rarely looked at Lilyth or Zevran directly, they were paying attention. When they bent down to pick up something, their ears turned towards the center of the camp. When the children ran by, they paused for a few seconds to listen. And, though the hunters seemed absorbed in their tasks, they had positioned themselves perfectly to watch and react if either Lilyth or Zevran reached for a weapon.

Lanaya took this all in for a moment, and then inclined her head. "I understand that you wish to accompany her." For a moment, she looked almost ashamed. "The Dalish... we have a lot of reasons to mistrust outsiders."

"I understand," Zevran said smoothly. "I knew a Clan of Dalish in Antiva. You need not worry about offending us." Lilyth held back a snort of indignation. He could speak for himself if he liked, but Lilyth certainly _was_ offended. These Dalish watched outsiders almost as closely as the templars watched the mages. It was insulting. Even if she _did_ wish to attack them, what could she do? Her magic was powerful, to be sure, but it would be her and Zevran against roughly thirty Dalish. Did they think her a fool?

But, Zevran's words seemed to charm Lanaya, who gave him a sweet smile. "_Ma serannas_. I appreciate that. Come, I'll take you to Keeper Zathrian."

"_Ma sera... nas..._ what does that mean?" Lilyth asked as they walked through the camp.

"It means 'thank you'." Lanaya looked almost wistful. "When we lived in Arlathan, we had... everything. Our own language, culture, music, magic... But, when the Magisters destroyed Arlathan and enslaved us, we lost it all. We Dalish do what we can to find and preserve that which we lost, including our language and history."

"Why is that so important?" Lilyth asked. What Lanaya had said made no sense to her. Why did the Dalish care about what happened so long ago? So what if they were enslaved and beaten? The Dalish now were free; wasn't that all that mattered?

Lanaya turned and stared at Lilyth as if she was speaking another language. "What do you mean? What could be more important than finding our roots and restoring our culture?"

"Survival," Lilyth said. "I know enough about your people to know that you are a group of nomadic clans that keep away from humans and trust no one. It seems to me that you would have enough trouble simply trying to survive, never mind searching for an ancient culture you may or may not ever restore."

"I don't expect you to understand," Lanaya said sadly. "Few outside the Dalish ever could. Our lives _are_ a constant struggle; a struggle to survive, a struggle to remember. We shoulder this burden proudly, and use this strain to always remind us of who we are."

"Who you are?" Lilyth said, her temper and impatience getting the better of her. "You are free! You are a clan of elves with nothing to do but survive, and know _nothing_ of struggle. If your only sadness comes from the loss of your history, you know nothing. And you do not even realize how lucky you are!"

Lanaya froze. Slowly, she turned around to face Lilyth, her eyes as chilly as a frozen lake. "I know more than you think," she said with quiet dignity. "Perhaps you should take the time to understand us before you judge us."

"As your people took the time to understand me before they called me 'flat-ear'?" Lilyth snapped.

The Dalish woman shrugged, as if the conversation wasn't even worth continuing, and turned around. "Keeper Zathrian is right this way." Without bothering to see if Lilyth was following, she walked towards a group of their strange carts.

"Charming as always, _mi __mujer de hielo_," Zevran quietly laughed.

"I cannot stand whining," Lilyth said through clenched teeth. "So what if they lost their history? They are alive, and they are free. That is what is important."

"There are some who think of more than just themselves," the assassin remarked. "Some think of a community and a family before they think of their own self."

"Then they are fools," she retorted. Zevran smiled, but didn't disagree.

Soon enough, they saw the Keeper. He sat next to a cart with a giant book open in his lap, his staff lying next to him. He looked up as they approached, and there was no smile of greeting, no change of expression at all; not even when he saw Zevran walking next to Lilyth. It was as if he didn't care one way or the other.

"Here is Lilyth, Keeper," Lanaya said respectfully. "Her companion wished to join her, as their Commander has tasked him with guarding her."

Zathrian set his book aside, took hold of his staff, and slowly stood up. "_Ma serannas_, Lanaya. Master Varathorn wishes to discuss the situation with ironbark. Would you mind speaking to him while I see to our guests?"

Lanaya inclined her head. "_Ma nuvenin_, Keeper."

Zathrian was silent as he watched his First walk off, and Lilyth's skin was on edge. His power was much stronger now that she was face to face with him, and she didn't like it one bit. Was he doing it intentionally? Or, was he so strong that his energy flared out on its own?

Once Lanaya was gone, Zathrian turned to Lilyth and gestured with his staff. "I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me, though what I have to say would be better discussed in privacy. Come with me. I would speak with you alone."

Lilyth stole a glance at Zevran. Not for all the knowledge of the Imperium would she ever admit that she wanted the assassin to stay. She didn't want to speak with Zathrian alone.

Luckily for her, Zevran only smiled. "I am afraid I cannot allow that, Keeper. As your First said, my Commander tasked me with watching over the lovely Warden here, as it is clear that your people are hostile to us. I intend to follow his instructions."

Lilyth took care to keep her face neutral. Of course she knew Zevran wasn't concerned with her safety; more than likely, he just wanted information. She knew that, obviously, but she was annoyed at how relieved she felt.

"I can guess what it is you wish to speak to me about," she said, taking care not to look at the assassin. "But, nothing you say will be a surprise to Zevran. He knows. About me, and about you."

Zathrian certainly didn't look pleased to hear that, but he apparently chose not to comment. Instead, he only turned and led them to the edges of the camp, away from the prying ears of the Dalish, to a small hill overlooking the clearing that was the camp. Lilyth looked around; they were in a spot partially hidden by trees. If Zathrian attacked them, could they get away?

"My people will know we are here, but they will not listen," Zathrian said, before turning to look at Lilyth. "As for me, I wish to know what purpose a blood mage has by coming into my Clan."

Under the full weight of his gaze, Lilyth stiffened and lifted her chin, acting as though his power didn't send chills up her spine. "As Aedan told you: we are simply here to gather allies against the Blight."

The Keeper looked doubtful. "Is he aware of your... magic?"

Lilyth couldn't help laughing shortly. "Yes. The Grey Wardens do anything they must to destroy the Blight. The previous Commander recruited me specifically _for_ my blood magic."

"I see." Zathrian was silent for a moment, watching her as if studying her for a portrait. Or, perhaps, he was watching her to see if she was lying. "Is your Commander aware of mine?"

"No. The Wardens may accept blood magic, but that does not mean that everyone is comfortable with it. A few of my companions do not like that I use it." She smiled, thinking that perhaps she could put his mind at ease, and then get something in return. "With the Dalish so suspicious of us already, I judged it best not to say anything for fear that they would react badly."

Zathrian frowned and pointed at Zevran. "Yet you told him?"

The assassin laughed. "Yes, she told me."

"Why would you care?" Lilyth asked. "You see that we are not templars. And surely you see that I, as a blood mage myself, would not go rushing to the Chantry. Why concern yourself with who I told?" Zathrian was quiet for a moment and, in that silence, she suddenly knew. Despite the press of his power, Lilyth beamed at him. "Your Clan does not know, do they?"

Zathrian's eyes flashed, but he composed himself quickly enough. "It would not matter if they did. I simply wanted to know your intentions here. As I am sure you know, most blood mages are not ones you would trust."

"I think you are lying," Zevran suddenly said. The Keeper gave him a sharp look, but Zevran smiled pleasantly. "I do not claim to know everything about the Dalish, but I did spend time with a Clan in Antiva. While it is true they use magic the Chantry despises, they do have an abhorrence of blood magic. How could they not? It was blood mages who destroyed Arlathan, no?"

The Keeper lowered his eyes though, for someone who had just been caught in a lie, he didn't seem too terribly concerned with it. If anything, he seemed amused. "Very well. The Clan does not know. And no, they would not be very happy. What I have done goes against the laws of the _Elvhen_."

"How strange," Lilyth said quietly. "I wonder why you would do such a thing, then."

"I did it for reasons you could never fathom, _da'len_."

Lilyth narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean? _Da'len_? I warn you, if you choose to insult me as your people have done, our conversation is over."

The Keeper chuckled lightly. "It was not an insult. It means 'young one'. You and your friend are very young compared to me."

"Which brings me to another question," Lilyth said carefully. The Keeper was talking calmly; this was her chance to learn. "I felt your power when I first entered this camp, as I am sure you felt mine." He nodded. "I learned my art from a very powerful... woman. But, you far surpass anything I have ever known. Just how old are you?"

Zathrian smiled. "I have lived centuries, _da'len_. The Dalish stray from humans in an effort to reclaim our lost immortality. I am the first in many ages to have lived this long."

"I see." Lilyth was somewhat disappointed. She had hoped that he had used his blood magic to extend his life, that perhaps she could somehow convince him to teach her.

"Now," Zathrian said firmly, "I must advise that, while you are here, you do not allow the Clan to know that you are a blood mage. They will immediately see you as an enemy, whether you threaten us or not."

"And, in return for this advice, I assume you will ask that we not reveal your own magic?" Zevran's words were silky smooth.

The Keeper nodded. "I will keep your secret, as you will keep mine."

"But, we do not need you to keep Lilyth's secret," the assassin said, his smile widening. "The Wardens already know. And I highly doubt you will alert the Chantry."

"I could tell the Clan. If I say even one word, they will attack."

"Fair enough," Zevran conceded. "But, I am confident that, while we may not win such a fight, we can at least escape. Then, we will be forced to meet with Aedan and tell him how you attacked us. At such time, unfortunately, we will have to leave your hunters to fend for themselves."

Zathrian looked at the two of them calmly. "I sense that you will ask something of me, in return for your silence."

"Yes," Lilyth piped up, making an effort to sound cheerful. There was something about Zathrian's pleased expression that seemed off. They had him backed into a corner, didn't they? Shouldn't he look more... disappointed? "If you are centuries old, then you must know blood spells that I do not. While I am here, teach me."

"That I cannot do. I would have to leave the Clan with you for hours at a time, and my hunters would grow suspicious. Perhaps they would think I was in danger and would seek us out."

Lilyth frowned. Damn it. She'd hoped it would be easier than that.

"I do, however," Zathrian continued, "have a book that might aid you. And perhaps there _is_ something I could teach you. What do you know of Keeper magic?"

"Almost nothing," Lilyth admitted. "At one of the villages, there was an apostate who sold what he said was a book on secret Keeper magic. But the book, along with the others, turned out to be worthless."

The Keeper nodded. "I'm not surprised. We guard our magic very closely." He studied her thoughtfully for a minute, almost like he was trying to decide whether or not she was worth his time. Then, he came to a decision. "Very well. You keep silent, and there is at least one spell I can teach you. It is not difficult to learn." He turned to Zevran. "Since you are no mage, I will speak with Master Varathorn and ask him to craft you a special set of _dar'misu_."

"Thank you," Zevran said, looking smug.

"In exchange, you will keep your knowledge to yourself?"

Lilyth nodded. "We will. Though again, I would like to ask why you learned such magic to begin with. Especially if your people hate it so much."

Zathrian's face suddenly grew dark and he looked away. "I learned it long ago, and for reasons you would not understand." He closed his eyes and, when he opened them again, he was composed. "Now, I will speak to Master Varathorn, if you will excuse me. Lilyth, I don't have much time to waste, so if you wish to learn the spell I offer, I will show you this evening, as I will be busy in the morning."

He walked off towards the Clan, his lips turning up into a little smile that bothered Lilyth.

"What do you think?" Lilyth asked, as they watched him speaking with an elderly elf.

"He is obviously hiding something," Zevran said. "What did he tell Aedan about the werewolves?"

Lilyth shrugged. "He said very little, apparently. Just that the Clan usually enters this part of the woods, and that the werewolves were waiting for them. They ambushed the Clan and wounded most of the hunters."

"That sounds like an organized attack, does it not?"

"I... did not think about that."

Zevran turned to look at her. "I thought these werewolves were supposed to be mindless beasts?"

"That is what Aedan said."

"Mindless beasts do not wait patiently in ambush, my lovely Warden." Zevran didn't seem concerned by this problem. If anything, he looked like he wanted to laugh.

"Then, do you think that Aedan and the others are walking into a trap?" Lilyth asked. "And, if so, why would Zathrian ask that I stay here? He was obviously worried that we would tell his secret. If these werewolves _are _a trap, why not send me out with the others? That would ensure that I would keep quiet."

Zevran shook his head. "I have no doubt that the werewolf threat is real. The hunters were wounded and dying before we arrived, and Zathrian seems to take the threat of the Blight seriously. If he simply wished to get rid of the Wardens, he could have ordered us to leave. Aedan was clear that we'd have left if the Keeper had told us to."

Lilyth turned to face the assassin. "Then, what are you saying?"

"I am saying that I think this Keeper knows more about the werewolf attack than he has admitted." He smiled. "Since he has agreed to teach you one of his spells this evening, why do you not take the time to question him? Perhaps see if you can get him to... how do you say... open up?"

Lilyth hesitated. "I do not know... he is far more powerful than Mistress Brinna, and she was... well, it does not matter. I am not sure I can convince him to tell me anything."

Zevran looked at her curiously. "Are you truly saying that you doubt your ability to charm any man?"

Lilyth tried to frown, but her own vanity was too much for her and she smiled at the assassin. "No. Not really."

oOo

"Hold still," Gloria said, grasping Aedan's chin lightly and turning his head to the side. She waved her free hand over the gash on his shoulder, concentrating on the spell. After a few whispered words, a blue light emanated from her hand, wrapping around the deep cut and knitting it closed. When the wound was healed, Gloria patted his shoulder. "There, good as new."

"Thank you," the young man said with a grin, inspecting the area where the wound had been. "I knew we'd be much better off if we had a healer with us."

"Yes, how grateful we all are," Morrigan said dryly from her spot by the fire. "With this healer in our group you have not felt the need to harass Lilyth and me to learn them."

"I still say you should," Aedan countered. "What if Gloria runs out of mana? Or, if a lot of us are wounded and she can't heal more than one person? Or, if, Maker forbid, she gets hurt too badly to heal anyone?"

The witch shrugged and didn't bother to reply.

Gloria sat back on her heels and looked around the area nervously, pretending she hadn't just heard Aedan listing all the reasons why she might not be able to use her magic. It was very difficult to go from a comfortable, safe Tower to joining a group of warriors constantly on the move, and she wasn't at all sure she was used to it. She certainly wasn't able to calmly discuss the various possibilities in battle. The thought of fighting, of those terrifying darkspawn, or the Archdemon that Alistair had described still made her stomach twist into knots.

"So, um, are we really staying out here tonight?" Gloria could have winced at how whiny her voice was. _Way to sound like a scared child._

Leliana gave her a sympathetic look. "It would take us too long to hike back to the Dalish camp. By then, night will have set in fully and we will have a very difficult time finding our way. Better to set up camp now and wait for morning to arrive."

Gloria nodded and tried to look like that made a lot of sense, but all she could think about was that it would soon be completely dark. And, what if those werewolves attacked them again? The first time, when they had appeared out of nowhere and had started shouting accusations about the Dalish and threatening them all, Gloria had thought she was going to faint. She still wasn't sure how she'd managed to stand her ground and fight the werewolves at all.

Morrigan gave her a shrewd look. "I was under the impression that you were excited at the chance to escape the Tower and see the world?"

"Yes," Gloria said irritably, instantly feeling defensive. "I wanted to see the world. I _didn't_, however, want to be stuck outside at night with werewolves popping out of Maker knows where, trees coming to life and attacking us, and crazy hermit mages playing riddle games before calling demons!"

Alistair laughed. "That Keeper really wasn't joking when he said this forest was dangerous, was he?"

"We'll be fine," Aedan said, reaching down and patting Morrigan's new staff, a piece of wood that had been given to them by the one moving tree that hadn't been hostile. "This staff is supposed to protect us."

"Oh, right, of course." Gloria rolled her eyes. "How silly of me not to remember the stick that keeps werewolves and hostile trees away. Remind me again: are we supposed to hit the wolves upside the head with it, or does it attack all on its own?"

Alistair let out a snort that startled Fang, and even Leliana giggled. Aedan grinned at Gloria. "Don't worry so much. We've handled worse. You should have seen Arl Eamon's estate. There were skeletons and walking corpses everywhere! We didn't think we'd survive that, but we did. And we'll survive this."

"I also have some wards that should keep enemies from noticing us tonight," Morrigan added practically.

"See?" Aedan said. "We'll be fine."

Gloria pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. There wasn't much else she could think of to keep themselves protected during the night. "Still, I'd feel better if those werewolves were the mindless beasts you'd said they were, Aedan."

"Yes, that has also been troubling me," Leliana said quietly. "Did Zathrian not say that they behaved like wild animals?"

"He did." Aedan stuck the point of his dagger in the ground and twirled it around anxiously. "I'm not sure if he intentionally lied, or if he didn't know that they were capable of speaking."

"Perhaps he thought you would not agree to this if he'd told you the truth," Morrigan offered.

Aedan's face grew dark. "Doesn't matter. I don't care being lied to. When we get back, I'm going to have a number of questions for him."

Gloria couldn't help but grasp at his irritation, and maybe use it to end this task. "Then, why aren't we turning around? If Zathrian lied? If he's hiding something from us? Why are we still helping him?"

The witch nodded towards her. "I agree with the healer. This is a dangerous task. If Zathrian cannot be bothered to tell us the truth, why should we waste precious time aiding his hunters? If he is lying about this, how can you be certain he will uphold his word to lend his aid?"

Aedan sighed, looking as though he was getting tired of this argument. "I've already told you, we _need_ the Dalish. So far, all we have against the Blight are the templars, which is not enough against an army of darkspawn. We'll just... have to hope Zathrian keeps his word. If he doesn't, then... I don't know..."

He lifted his head and looked around at them. "Now, finish eating and get some rest. Morrigan and I will take the first watch. Leliana, I'll wake you and Alistair in two hours. Gloria, since you're the healer, you can sleep through the night. Tomorrow is probably going to be difficult; you'll need to make sure you're energized."

Gloria didn't need to be told twice; she was exhausted. She'd thought that traveling wouldn't be so difficult, what with having spent her life in the Tower walking up and down stairs. But, that was different from hiking and sleeping on the rough ground, not to mention all the fighting along the way. She was weary in every bone of her body.

After a quick meal of bread and dried meat, Gloria rolled out her bedroll and lay down. Aedan had said there was no need for their tents, what with all the trees overhead; trees that thankfully weren't springing to life. Fang curled up next to her back and let out a sigh. He never liked to sleep alone; when Aedan was awake he usually curled up next to someone else.

It didn't take long for Gloria to fall asleep, what with the soft murmur of Morrigan and Aedan talking quietly, and the sounds of the cool wind rustling the trees. She was so tired, and the sounds were so relaxing, that she was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the ground.

She didn't remember actually falling asleep, but it felt as though she had barely closed her eyes when suddenly Leliana was there, lightly shaking her awake. "Urgh... leeme... 'lone..."

"It is morning, Gloria. Time to wake up."

It took every bit of willpower Gloria possessed to make herself open her eyes and sit up. She looked up at the smiling face of Leliana, who laughed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Gloria said, hating the sister for her cheerful words. The sun was barely up, Gloria was stiff all over, her hair was basically a rats' nest, and she was exhausted. How in Thedas did Leliana manage to look so well put together and sound so cheerful?

"Here is some bread. Eat it and then we shall go. I suspect that it will be a long day today."

If their morning was any indication, it really _was_ going to be a long day. After a quick breakfast while gathering up their things, Morrigan released the wards she had placed around their camp. It seemed to Gloria that, as soon as the witch took down the wards, everything in this Maker-forsaken forest seemed determined to harass them.

Between stinging bugs, angry bears, and the squirrels that Gloria was positive were throwing acorns at them, she had had more than enough of nature. But, it seemed like that rhyming tree hadn't lied about his staff. They didn't see any more werewolves or hostile trees as they made their way further into the forest.

Although, they did encounter a magical barrier. Gloria didn't see it at first, and almost bumped into Alistair when he stopped. "What the..?" She peeked around him and saw a glittering yellow mist hovering in front of them. "Aedan, I think we should be careful," she said. Magical barriers were no laughing matter. They could do all manner of things to those who tried to cross them.

But Morrigan, with a smug smile on her face and the staff in her hand, confidently walked through without a word. As soon as her staff touched the magic, the barrier dissipated.

Aedan grinned. "I guess the Rhyming Tree was telling the truth."

Of course, their good luck was destined for failure. When they stepped through the space where the barrier had been, they were immediately confronted by three werewolves, who looked just as surprised to see them. That is, Gloria was guessing they were surprised, since she had no idea what a startled werewolf would look like. They didn't exactly puff up their tails like cats. They did, however, take a few steps back.

"The barrier has been destroyed!" one of the werewolves shouted. "Retreat! We must protect the Lady!"

Gloria realized she was gripping her staff tightly, and released it as the three werewolves ran off down the path behind them. "Uh... so... they're not attacking us?"

"Apparently not," Morrigan said dryly.

Alistair lowered his arm, but didn't bother slipping his sword back into its sheath. "Who are they protecting? A lady?"

"Whoever she is, she must be someone important to them," Leliana reasoned, her eyes scanning the area. "Perhaps they mean Witherfang?"

Aedan nodded. "Zathrian said that Witherfang was their leader. Their alpha, I guess. Keep your eyes peeled. If the werewolves are retreating, it's because we're getting closer to their hideout. This isn't going to be easy."

oOo

Lilyth was in a state of quiet fury, which made reading her precious Imperium book all that much harder. She could recognize a few of the words–Mistress Brinna spoke Tevene quite fluently–she could even speak a few short sentences, but she was by no means proficient. "_San.. guinea liga... verus..._" she muttered to herself. "I am sure that means blood bind..."

She traced her finger over a word in the header. _Vallis_. If she had read the description correctly, it meant a special sort of stone. Or, an amulet. Her heart beat faster. If Lilyth was correct in her thinking, it was referring to an amulet similar to the one she wore around her neck. Of course, while this book had been locked away in Irving's office as something rare and dangerous, from what Lilyth could gather, it was a standard book in the Imperium; something most of the mages there would have access to. Which meant that, if she was right, her amulet was something common in the Imperium. Nothing unique.

Well, that was good news for her. If her amulet was common in the Imperium, then she should easily find a way to use it again; if not from this book, then from the Magisters themselves. When she left the Wardens, it shouldn't be too much trouble to find her way to the Imperium. Perhaps she could even apprentice herself to a Magister. She wouldn't mind working for one as an apprentice, rather than a servant.

Lilyth shook her head to clear those thoughts–she'd deal with all that later–and turned her focus back to the book. But, the book was difficult for her to read. So far, she'd guessed that it referred to blood binding, but that couldn't be accurate. Maybe she had read it wrong. If this _was_ describing an amulet similar to hers, it couldn't be discussing blood binding. What she had done to her father was far, far worse than any blood bind. She'd trapped his soul. His body had been allowed to die, but his soul had been whisked into the amulet. Was it a different type of blood binding, perhaps?

"Still having difficulties, _mi mujer de hielo_?"

Lilyth raised her eyes and scowled at the sight of the smiling assassin. "Yes, and I would thank you to leave me alone while I work." Bad enough that the Clan had woken her up so early; one would think they could have kept their voices down while she'd slept. But, of course, that had been asking too much. The least Zevran could do was give her some peace.

But, he only laughed. "Oh, there is no reason to snap at me, my lovely Warden. It is not _my_ fault that the old Keeper ignored your advances."

At the mention of that, Lilyth's scowl deepened. "Perhaps _you_ should have gone. With the way he ignored me, I can only assume that women are not to his taste."

Her clear irritation only made Zevran laugh harder; Lilyth turned her head and pretended to ignore him, but she was livid. How could the Keeper have ignored her like that?

Zathrian had kept his promise, to be sure. He had taken her a short distance away from the Clan and showed her a rather simple spell that involved calling up a section of roots to protect her in battle. Then, when he saw how easily she learned magic, he took her back to his cart and gave her a book he kept hidden; a book that he said would help her increase the power of her blood spells. When she had asked if he was sure he was willing to part with such a book, he had shrugged and claimed that he had no one else to pass the book to.

So, Lilyth, thinking that perhaps he already liked her, asked him questions about the Dalish and tried to charm him into giving away information about the werewolves. She smiled at him, laughed at his dry humor, leaned forward with her lips parted, and widened her dark blue eyes sweetly.

All to no purpose.

Zathrian had behaved as if he hadn't noticed anything! She had been right there, sitting so close she had almost been touching him, and he had acted like he hadn't noticed! If there was one thing Lilyth was good at, it was seduction. No one ignored her when she turned on the charm! How could he?

Zevran watched her with a giant smile. "Oh, there is no need to pout like that, my lovely Warden. If he is as ancient as he says he is, perhaps he no longer feels anything, if you catch my meaning."

Well, that was quite a valid point; she hadn't considered that. Lilyth relaxed and gave a petty laugh. "Perhaps you are right, and all I did was irritate him by reminding him of a youth he can never have."

"It was quite fun watching you try, at any rate. Perhaps you could attempt that charm on me, yes?"

Lilyth turned back to her book. "Tch. You have nothing I want, assassin."

"Oh now, that is simply not true. You will want me to train you to use your daggers, will you not? Perhaps, if you try your charm on me, I will be more eager to train you." At Lilyth's glare, he started laughing. "All right, I understand. Your answer is no. Still, you can't blame a man for trying."

Lilyth gave a snort of derision. She'd already attempted charming him once, and it had backfired horribly; something Gloria would never tire of teasing her about. She'd sooner go back to the Tower than try that again.

Still, a part of her admitted, it was nice that the assassin tried so hard. Lilyth rather liked having a handsome man chasing after her, giving her all the power to say yes or no. "Why must _I_ do all the work?" she asked lightly. "You always ask me to charm or seduce you. Why do you not try it on me?"

"Are you saying it would work? That you would fall breathlessly in my arms?"

Lilyth laughed. "Oh no, not at all. But, it might be fun to watch."

The assassin grinned. "I will keep that in mind."

"I'm terribly sorry for interrupting such an obviously intelligent conversation, but I must speak with you both."

Lilyth jumped slightly and looked up to see Keeper Zathrian standing in front of them with a small smile. Damn! She'd gotten so used to the uncomfortable feel of his power that she hadn't noticed it growing stronger as he'd gotten closer.

"Yes?" Zevran asked with a bit of a frown. "What did you need?"

"I am journeying into the forest," the Keeper said simply. He looked out at the trees. "The wind tells me that your companions have reached the central ruins. They are close to Witherfang, and soon they will have the heart. I intend to meet them as they leave. The sooner I have the heart, the sooner I can end this curse."

Lilyth closed her book and slipped it into her pack–it wouldn't do to let the Dalish Keeper see that she had a book on Imperium magic–and slowly stood up. "Why do you wish for us to go with you?"

The Keeper shrugged. "I thought you might wish to meet with your companions. And, along the way I can answer any questions you have about... my magic. We will be away from the ears of the Clan. Lanaya knows of this, so the hunters will not come looking for us."

There was something hidden here. Lilyth could sense it. She couldn't believe that he wanted to bring her and Zevran solely for the purpose of sharing his magical secrets.

But, the enticement of learning more about his power was too much for her to turn down. Even if, as her instincts told her, there was something else going on. "Very well," she said slowly. "We will go with you."

Zathrian's relief was unmistakable. Yes, there was something else going on. "Good. Allow me to grab my things, and we will go."

As he walked briskly back to his cart, Zevran slipped up to Lilyth. "You know he is hiding something, yes?"

"Yes," Lilyth admitted. "Aedan never said anything about Zathrian meeting them in the forest. Which means Zathrian never told him. He has some other reason for wanting to meet them."

"Then, why did you agree?"

"Because he is the most powerful blood mage I have ever encountered. He is stronger even than Mistress Brinna. If there is even the slightest chance that he will teach me something, I must take it."

Zevran studied her for a moment with a strange look on his face. "You wish to be stronger than Brinna," he suggested quietly.

Lilyth clenched her fists together. "No. I _will_ be stronger."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _I'm of the opinion that, if Zathrian really is a few centuries old, and the curse is almost as old as he is, that he should be far stronger than he is in-game. Although, that could also be because I find him a fascinating character. _

_Lots of thanks to Suilven, for waving her magic beta stick and fixing all of the problems. Especially for taking the time when she's been so busy and under the weather. You, my friend, are super woman. That's the only explanation I can think of for how you manage to be so awesome._

_Thank you to everyone reviewing, reading, and requesting alerts!_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Warning: **This chapter touches on many sensitive issues, such as rape, physical abuse, and the death of a child.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>XVII. It Began With a Death<strong>

"Please, be at peace, all of you. This is my sanctum and I do not wish to see it violated."

Aedan shifted his eyes as he and his companions walked into the ruin, looking around and mentally counting at least twenty different werewolves. Only when he had the measure of the large room did he turn his eyes to the strange and wild woman who was standing at the back, walking forward as if to confront him. Though her words asked for peace, Aedan wasn't fooled. These werewolves were violent, mad beasts, and he wouldn't endanger himself or his companions by falling for another one of their tricks.

They had already tried to trick him into peace once, with that offer of a parlay. Aedan hadn't believed them then, and he wouldn't believe them now. For all he knew, this woman standing on the raised dais at the back of the room, begging for peace, was a demon. How else could anyone explain a human-looking woman with greenish skin and roots wrapped around her body?

One of the werewolves–Aedan could have sworn it was the one who had spoken to them the previous day, who had threatened to kill them if they didn't return to the Dalish–growled and clenched his long claws. "They have slain those who guarded your sanctum, Lady! They seek to harm you!"

"I fear that what they seek is quite... something else." The strange woman took a few steps forward, but what caught Aedan's attention was that the werewolves stayed put. Though the ones in the room were crouched and growling, clearly ready to attack, they didn't move. Maybe they were waiting for this woman to order them? Aedan's mind raced. Was she their leader? What about Witherfang? Wasn't Witherfang a male?

She faced Aedan and his companions and inclined her head politely. "I bid you welcome, mortals. I am the Lady of the Forest."

Aedan stiffened. This lady sounded peaceful and soothing, as if she truly wanted to simply talk to them, but he wasn't fooled. He couldn't risk walking into a trap. "We're here for the heart of Witherfang. That's it. We have nothing to say to you."

"We can speak of Witherfang, in time," the Lady said calmly. "All I ask is that you first hear what it is I have to say."

"No, my lady!" The werewolf beside her was practically screaming. "We must protect you! We _must_ attack them now!"

The Lady turned to him and pressed a hand to his cheek. "Hush, Swiftrunner. Your urge for battle has only seen the deaths of the ones you swore to protect. Is that what you want?"

The werewolf fell to his knee. "No, my lady. Anything but that!"

"Then, the time has come to set aside our rage and speak with these outsiders." She brushed a hand–Aedan noticed that instead of fingers she had long vines that wrapped around her arms and extended from her wrists–over the werewolf's cheek, before lifting her head and addressing the Wardens. "I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He... struggles with his nature."

"As do most of us," Morrigan commented dryly. Aedan stole a glance at the witch and saw an amused smile on her face.

But, the Lady seemed to take the witch's comment seriously. "Truer words were never spoken. But, few can claim the same struggles of these creatures; that their very nature is a curse forced upon them." She shook her head sadly. "No doubt you have questions, mortals. There _are_ things Zathrian has not told you."

"I knew it!" Gloria suddenly exclaimed from her place beside Alistair, who protected her in battle. "I _knew_ he was lying!"

Leliana, standing next to Aedan with her bow held ready, nodded solemnly. "Yes, we had feared that Zathrian had not been honest with us."

Aedan shook his head, wishing that they would have been quiet. The last thing he wanted was for the Lady to think she could fool them. "Just because we're fairly certain that Zathrian lied, doesn't mean we can be sure this Lady is going to tell us the truth."

Morrigan chuckled. "A fine point. No doubt these werewolves know that we are here to kill them. Would they not say anything to keep that from coming about?"

"I understand your hesitation," the Lady said calmly, as if Aedan's wariness didn't surprise her in the least. "All I ask is that you hear what I have to say. Then, you may decide how you wish to proceed."

Aedan hesitated. On the one hand, if he let his guard down, he would be opening himself and his companions to an attack. On the other, the Lady was staring at him as if she genuinely wanted him to listen. Was there harm in it? He could listen to them and still watch for an attack, couldn't he?

"Maybe we _should_ hear her out," Alistair said quietly.

Aedan reluctantly nodded. "Very well, we'll hear what you have to say, Lady." He swept a hand out over the werewolves. "But, we're watching. If anyone thinks to attack us, or even moves in a way that could be seen as threatening, all discussion is over."

The Lady nodded and took another step forward, as if she realized she only had a few moments. "It was Zathrian who created this curse that these poor souls now suffer. The same curse his own Clan suffers from."

_That_ caught Aedan off guard. He'd been almost certain that Zathrian had known more about the curse than he had said, but he hadn't expected that the Keeper himself had actually _created_ it. He straightened up in shock, but quickly looked around at the werewolves to make sure they were still in place.

The Lady nodded at Aedan's surprise. "Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away." Her eyes fell to the ground. "Zathrian was a young man, then, with a son and daughter he loved greatly. While they were out hunting... the human tribe captured them."

She fell silent, and Swiftrunner got to his feet. "The boy... the humans tortured him. Killed him. The girl... they raped, and left for dead."

Aedan heard Gloria's muffled gasp and lowered his eyes, wishing he could be as horrified and shocked as she was. Though his own parents had raised him to never treat others in such a way, there were, unfortunately, a number of humans who did such things to elves, especially to the female elves.

"The girl learned later she was with child," Swiftrunner continued. "She... killed herself."

Aedan tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, but he could feel himself getting angry. His grip on his daggers was tight; he was starting to see where this was going to go. And, the worst of it was, he didn't know if he could blame Zathrian. What would Aedan do, if such horrific things ever happened to a child of his? What about Oren, his little nephew? His life stolen before it had even really begun, and for no other reason than Howe's greed. Aedan would go to the Void and beyond to avenge Oren's death. He'd sworn long ago to slit Howe's throat for what he had done to Aedan's family; what would he have done if Howe had done more than kill them? If he had violated their souls before breaking their bodies?

"So, Zathrian cursed them in revenge?" Aedan asked, his words clipped. "Good, I hope they suffered. They deserved that and more."

The Lady nodded as if she felt the same. "Indeed they did."

"Zathrian came to these ruins and summoned a terrible beast," Swiftrunner said, "binding it to the body of a great wolf. And so, Witherfang came to be. Witherfang hunted down the humans of the tribe. Many of them were killed, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures..."

The Lady lowered her head. "Twisted and savage, just as Witherfang is himself. The cursed humans were driven into the forest. When their tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained behind, pitiful and mindless animals, wandering the forest with no thought or purpose."

Again, Swiftrunner knelt before her, as if kneeling before a king. "Until we found you, my lady. You gave us peace."

The Lady put a hand on his head and looked up at Aedan. "I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature. I soothed the rage in his heart, and his humanity soon emerged. He brought others to me."

Aedan didn't want to hear about the humanity of the werewolves. They still seemed savage enough to him. "Yet, when we first met Swiftrunner and attempted to talk to him, he attacked us and then swore to kill us if we didn't return to the Dalish. You can say that they aren't mindless beasts, and I will believe that. But, you can't claim that their humanity is what drives them."

"The curse cannot be entirely broken," the Lady said. "Each new victim it claims must be brought to me before the healing can begin."

"You can't heal a curse through magic alone," Gloria suddenly said. "A curse isn't like a wound or a sickness. At best, all a powerful healer can do is to delay or soften the effects."

The Lady nodded. "That is why we need Zathrian. We seek to _end_ the curse. The crimes committed against his children were grave indeed, but they were committed _centuries_ ago by those who are long dead. Those who suffer _now_ have done nothing!" She raised her head, for the first time looking angry. "Word was sent to Zathrian each time the landships passed this way, begging him to come, and each time he has ignored us. We will no longer be denied."

Swiftrunner jumped to his feet. "We spread the curse to his own people, so that he must come here and end it to save them!"

"Clever Zathrian," Morrigan chuckled. She smiled at the Lady and the werewolves. "He _does_ seek to end the curse. He sent us here to find the heart of Witherfang for that exact purpose. I would guess he has no interest in anything else."

The Lady shook her head. "That will not do. Please, mortals, you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, if he hears their plight, surely he will agree to end the curse!"

"Zathrian is no fool," Leliana said. "Why would he agree to come here? He must know that he will only be putting himself in danger."

The Lady drew herself up. "Tell Zathrian this: if he comes, I will summon Witherfang. I possess the power to do so. I also have the power to ensure that Witherfang is never found. Tell him if he does not come, he will _never_ find Witherfang, and he will _never_ cure his people."

Aedan hesitated, as Leliana and Morrigan turned to look at him. Behind him, he could feel the eyes of Alistair and Gloria as well. Everyone waited for his decision.

Should he trust the Lady's story? He had to admit that her words seemed like the truth. And they explained everything, including why Zathrian hadn't told them much about the curse.

Did he care so much about the werewolves' plight that he was willing to risk Zathrian's anger and, in turn, potentially risk the promise of Dalish allies against the Blight? These creatures were suffering; that much he could see. They were suffering and, though he felt for them, their suffering was nothing against the danger of the Blight. Duncan had said that anything was worth ending the Blight, and Aedan had sworn to his dying father that he would honor the Wardens.

But, could he _really_ turn his back on these werewolves, and kill them all in an attempt to find the heart of Witherfang? Could he stomach that?

Shit. What should he do?

oOo

"I must thank you again for that book that shall help me learn Grave Robber," Lilyth said smoothly as she picked her way over the rocks and fallen pillars of the ruins. "Aedan will not allow me to use Blood Sacrifice, you see, so when I use my blood magic, I cannot be healed."

"That is because he assumes that you will end up killing Alistair," Zevran chuckled.

"Grave Robber should solve that problem," Zathrian said calmly, not looking at either one of them. "As soon as someone dies, you will be able to use their blood. It will heal you as much as if you'd taken a potion or been healed by magic."

Lilyth paused as they reached the bottom of the wide staircase, in the first room of these ruins. When she'd seen the crumbling door from the outside, she hadn't expected it to be such a massive place underground. Where had such a thing come from?

"What is this place?" she asked as she watched Zathrian walk to the center of the room and bend down to inspect some of the rubble.

"It is an ancient _Elvhen_ ruin from the days of Arlathan. The werewolves have used it as their place of hiding, which has prevented me from coming here in search of artifacts."

Zevran was looking around curiously. "It does not seem to be too dangerous. Why have you not come here before to end the curse?"

Zathrian straightened up, brushing the dust from his robes. "For all my power, I am not able to fight a large group of werewolves on my own. But, by the looks of it, your friends have already cut a wide path through here. Usually, I would have already expected to be ambushed by a few of those mindless _ghi_. If they have not come, it is because they are dead." A smile warmed his face. "Soon enough, your friends will have killed Witherfang, and I can end this curse."

A loud crash from the far side of the room made Lilyth jump. In an instant, Zevran was by her side with his daggers out, and Lilyth was reaching for her own. But Zathrian turned to the source of the noise calmly, as if he feared nothing.

Lilyth was surprised when a door slammed open and Aedan walked through with the others, all of them looking grim. As soon as they saw Lilyth, Zevran, and Zathrian, they stopped short.

"Ah, so here you all are," Zathrian said with a smile, seemingly the only one not surprised.

"You have already killed Witherfang?" Lilyth asked. Well, it seemed as though the Keeper was correct. Perhaps all those comments about the immense knowledge of Keepers was true.

"No, we haven't," Aedan said sharply, turning to glare at the Keeper.

Zathrian studied Aedan for a moment. "You haven't? Then, may I ask why you are leaving the ruins?"

Lilyth saw Aedan tense and frowned. He seemed to be mad about something. "So, you _did_ know about the ruins," he said shortly. "One more thing you neglected to tell us."

Zathrian shrugged as if the accusation was pointless. "There was no need. I knew you would find them, and I did not care to waste your time with a history lesson, which had no bearing on your task." He gave Aedan a wry smile. "But, it does seem that the spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I inquire as to what she wants?"

"Spirit?" Lilyth asked. "What spirit?" Their talk was confusing her. Were they not here to kill a wolf?

"The Lady of the Forest," Gloria spat out, glaring at Zathrian with more anger than Lilyth had ever seen from her. "The Lady who guards the werewolves; who told us that _you_, Keeper, are the one who started this curse in the first place!"

Zathrian raised an eyebrow, looking at Gloria as if she were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. "You do realize that the Lady actually _is_ Witherfang?" At the silence that greeted his statement, he gave a harsh smile. "She is the powerful spirit of the forest that I summoned long ago and bound to the body of a wolf. Her nature is that of the forest itself: beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both; two sides of the same being. The curse came from her, and those she afflicted with it became like her; twisted and savage beasts, as well as human."

"The curse first came from _you_!" Gloria shouted.

Zathrian scowled at her. "Those _beasts_ attacked my Clan. I saw them then, and I saw that they were the same worthless savages that they have ever been. They deserve to be wiped out, not defended. They are the same wretched creatures their ancestors were."

Lilyth was growing irritated. She didn't understand what was going on, and she didn't like being kept in the dark. "I do not understand. Why did you call such a spirit in the first place?"

"Because of the humans who killed his children," Aedan said, his voice quiet and angry. "They tortured his son, killed him, and raped his daughter. When she found that she was with child, she killed herself."

Lilyth felt as though a tight hand had suddenly clamped over her throat. She turned to glare at Zathrian–wondering if he was doing something to her–but he was watching Aedan with a dark look on his face.

"I understand your anger, Zathrian," Aedan continued. "But, you've already avenged your children! Those werewolves down there with the Lady don't deserve their fate! Won't you at least talk to them, and consider ending this curse?"

"And, what say you to this, Lilyth? Do you agree that I should end the curse?"

Lilyth took a step back, though whether it was at Zathrian's question or the sly look on his face, she didn't know. "Why would you care for my opinion?" she asked slowly.

The Keeper allowed himself a smile. "Did you think that I asked you to come here with me solely so that I could teach you what I know of blood magic?"

"_You're_ a blood mage?" Alistair exclaimed.

"Not now!" Aedan snapped, looking between Zathrian and Lilyth as if he wanted to see where this would go.

"Did you think I spoke to you in the Clan, and gave you my precious book, solely to ensure that you would keep my secret?" Zathrian continued calmly. "A secret that my Clan would never even have believed?"

"No, I did not." Lilyth kept her eyes fixed on the Keeper. She barely even noticed it when Zevran took a step closer to her. "I... suspected that you had a different reason, but... I did not know what it was."

"I'd known you were a blood mage the moment you set foot in my Clan, as you already know. Of course, at first, I'd only asked your Commander to leave you behind because I wished to see what a blood mage intended with my people. As you are no doubt aware, most blood mages do not trust one another. Especially the Dalish, who were conquered by blood mages." Zathrian rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked her over. "Did you not feel the flare of my magic as you walked throughout my Clan? I didn't trust you, and I didn't trust any of your words. So, I delved into your mind, searching for your thoughts, something to betray your true intentions with my Clan, and I found something quite interesting."

Lilyth's heart hammered in her chest. She could only imagine what he had found. Any of her thoughts, during her time in the Clan, had been open to him. Damn it! _Why_ hadn't she thought to protect herself? How could she have been so careless as to forget what powerful blood mages could do? There was a reason no one could ever lie to Mistress Brinna. Against a powerful blood mage who knew what they were doing, thoughts could always give someone away. What had Lilyth been thinking about? What had Zathrian seen?

"I saw a dead little girl," the Keeper remarked quietly. "I saw a glimmer of satisfaction, a satisfaction I know very well. I do not know who that little girl was, but I do know that you had your revenge for her death."

"Yes," Lilyth said, lifting her shoulders and hiding her relief that Zathrian hadn't mentioned anything about the Mistress, and the things she had done to Lilyth. "I killed the ones who caused her death; those who did nothing while she bled out, those who ignored her when she cried." Recalled to the memories, it was as if a shadow passed over her. She'd done more than just kill them. She'd slaughtered them. And the man who had killed Letia, who had broken that beautiful little girl... Lilyth had brought him the greatest agony that had been in her power to give.

"Then, how can you judge what I did? Or, allow him to judge what I did? How can you allow your Commander to threaten me? He has accepted what you did, has he not? He overlooks your crimes for the greater benefit of your aid? Why would he not accept mine?"

In truth, Lilyth couldn't judge Zathrian. She _didn't_. She would have done the exact same. If she had been able to, she would have cursed every single person in the Alienage who had never once defended Letia. She would have cursed her mother, her father, and her brothers. She would have cursed them, their wives, and their children. She would have made sure that the name Letia was never forgotten; that each descendent of her parents walked every moment in shame; that the cloud of Letia's death hung over their heads; that her innocent blood stained their hands.

But, she hadn't had the power to do that. So, she had settled for slaughtering them. The mother who had lived in so much fear that she hadn't stepped in to save her daughter. The brothers, who weren't there to defend their little sister. And, the father, who had hit her too hard.

"It doesn't matter what Lilyth did or didn't do," Aedan said sharply, his voice cutting into the silence that had fallen over them all. "I _am_ sorry for what your children suffered, and I am sorry for the pain that you still feel, but I can't allow this curse to continue. You, Zathrian, are going to end it. Your hunters will be healed, and I will have my Dalish army."

The Keeper scoffed. "I will do no such thing." He turned to Lilyth with a strange look, as if prompting her to say something.

Lilyth stared back at him and, for the first time, began to truly understand why Zathrian truly wanted her there. He wanted her to convince Aedan to help him. He must have known that Aedan was going to discover the origins of the curse, and he wanted someone on his side to defend what he had done. He must have thought that Lilyth, as one of Aedan's companions, could get him to listen to her.

But, the question was: did she _want_ to defend him? Zathrian had invaded her mind, had lied and deceived them, and had taken precious days away from them; days they _could_ have spent hiking towards Denerim, where Lilyth's freedom awaited. Did she wish to help him?

Yes, she did. Oddly enough, she felt a strange sort of kinship with Zathrian. Very few people were willing to go to such extremes to avenge the deaths of those precious to them. From what Lilyth had seen, most people tended to let pain weigh them down. It took an iron will to straighten up and punish those who deserved it.

Besides, Zathrian _was_ still a powerful blood mage. Powerful enough to get in her head with such finesse that she hadn't even noticed! Which meant... was he in her head now? Where her thoughts truly her own? Lilyth took in a breath and closed her eyes, looking for a tendril of magic; something to indicate that he was in her head. She couldn't feel anything, but that didn't mean he was leaving her alone. Could she trust her thoughts? Even if she couldn't, Zathrian was still powerful...

"Aedan," she finally said, "I am of the opinion that you should follow Zathrian's plan and get the heart of Witherfang."

"You think I didn't think of that?" Aedan shouted. "But I saw those werewolves, who are cursed for no reason other than spite, and that Lady swore she'd hide Witherfang _forever_ if Zathrian didn't agree to end the curse!"

The Keeper made a dismissive noise. "What the Lady wants is to save the werewolves. If I agree to end the curse with her, the werewolves are saved and my life is ended. But, with the heart of Witherfang, the werewolves are dead and I can heal my hunters. And, she is mistaken. She might be able to hide Witherfang from _you_, but I am quite capable of forcing her to bring him out."

"Why should we care what happens to you?" Aedan demanded. "You've done nothing but lie to us from the start, use us for your own purposes, and cause the very problem we're trying to stop!"

"He is also a _very_ powerful blood mage," Lilyth said. Aedan turned his angry gaze towards her, and she stared back at him. "You said he swore to fight against the Archdemon with you. From the moment we set out to end the Blight, you have said that you will do _anything_ to end it. If that is true, I would suggest that you would want a powerful blood mage at your side. A blood mage so powerful that he surpasses anything I have ever seen."

"She has a fair point," Morrigan said thoughtfully. "If he truly is a blood mage, and I see no reason why Lilyth would lie about this, then he must be _quite_ powerful. Even I was not able to recognize his magic."

Aedan was quiet for a moment, and Gloria twisted around to stare at him. "You can't really be considering this, can you? Look at everything he did!"

"We can force him to end the curse and save those werewolves!" Alistair added sharply.

Lilyth saw that Aedan was rigid. He looked as if he was liable to snap at any moment. "Leliana," he finally said curtly, "what do you think?"

The sister lowered her eyes. "I swore to follow you, and so I leave this choice to you, Aedan. I believe that you have already decided, and I will follow whatever decision you make. I... though it saddens me, I can see why this is necessary."

Lilyth wasn't sure why Leliana would say that Aedan had already decided. To her, it looked as though he was waging an internal battle. He looked as if he was ready to kill all of them. Still, she could only hope that he would agree to Zathrian's request. The Keeper was a powerful blood mage; he had knowledge that even Mistress Brinna hadn't had access to.

After a few minutes of silence, Aedan scowled. "Very well," he said, his words tight with anger. "We'll get the heart of Witherfang. We'll go back there and kill them. But you, Zathrian, are going to help us with this. And, when we face the Archdemon, you are _going_ to be right by my side, or I swear on Andraste I will kill you."

oOo

He could hear them. Laughing and singing, dancing around as if they didn't have a care in the world. It sickened him to his soul.

Aedan jabbed the point of his dagger into the ground, yanked it out, and jabbed it back in. Why should he be surprised that the Dalish were in an ecstasy of celebration?

Their hunters were cured, their Keeper was safe; they had their Clan back, hale and whole. Of course they were prancing around in a delirium of revelry, building up the fires for a massive feast, passing gifts to the outsiders who had saved them, begging them to join in the celebrations. To the Dalish, it must be the greatest day they could imagine.

It also seemed that Aedan was the only one who didn't want to join in. From his spot a short distance from the Clan, he could hear Gloria teasing and flirting with the Dalish men, and Alistair's voice raised as he drank and ate with the elders. Even Leliana seemed happy; her sweet voice, lifted in song, drifted back to him, almost as if to ask him to come and join them.

He couldn't stand to be around them.

No one had even bothered to ask what it had taken to free the Dalish from the curse. All the Dalish cared about was that their hunters were healthy again. All Zathrian cared about was that he was alive, and that no one knew of his treachery. All Alistair, Gloria, and Leliana seemed to care about was joining in the fun and putting the thought of the werewolves from their minds.

Sure, they'd been somewhat reluctant at first. They'd been upset at what they'd had to do to the werewolves. When the Dalish started celebrating, they'd tried to say no. But, they apparently didn't have Aedan's easy way of flatly saying 'no', since they eventually gave in. And, now, with the Dalish spirits flowing, it seemed as though they'd lost their earlier reluctance. Or maybe they were just eager to get drunk and forget what had happened. Either way, Aedan couldn't do it.

He could still see the werewolves, that was the worst part. He could still see the smile on the Lady's serene face when she had thought that they had brought Zathrian to end the curse. Then, the dawning anger when she had realized that they had only come back to kill.

She had turned to Aedan, her eyes pleading with him. She had asked him if what Zathrian had said was the truth; if Aedan and the others had come back solely to take the heart. And Aedan had only given her one word: yes. He hadn't trusted himself to say anything else.

She had screamed then. "Let us make an end to this wretched existence, once and for all!" And the werewolves had attacked.

Aedan jabbed the dagger into the ground again with more force. He had killed pitiable creatures, whose only crime had been that their ancestors had committed a terrible, unspeakable act. Their very existence had caused them pain and suffering and, instead of helping, Aedan had killed them.

He could still smell that terrible mixture of fur and blood. He could still hear them screaming, howling in a rage. They had counted on him to help cure them and, instead, he had stuck a dagger between their ribs.

Aedan sighed and leaned back against the tree, trying to push the sounds of the Dalish camp from his mind. He didn't want to hear them celebrating; he didn't want to endure their praise and thanks. He didn't want to watch them dance, or listen as they cheered for their Keeper, who had sent the Wardens out to end the curse.

In fact, he couldn't even bring himself to look at Zathrian. That lying Keeper looked so smug, so pleased with himself, that it was all Aedan could do to keep from punching him in his arrogant face.

Was this what Duncan had meant when he had said that the Grey Wardens did anything they could to end the Blight? When Aedan had first learned that Lilyth was a blood mage, and that Duncan had specifically recruited her for it, he hadn't seen it as the terror that Alistair had. To Aedan, her magic had been easy to accept. There was no demon possessing her, she didn't attack their allies or innocent bystanders, and she didn't threaten him or their companions, so he didn't have a problem with it. Though she, herself, was a terrible pain to deal with, he didn't hate her magic.

So, he hadn't really thought about what Duncan had meant by his words. Aedan hadn't realized the choices that he would have to make as the Warden-Commander. He had thought it would be simple: gather allies against the Blight. It had sounded so easy, so black and white.

Even when he had let Lilyth kill Isolde, it hadn't seemed so terrible. Lady Isolde had asked for it; she had been willing to die to save her son. To Aedan, it had made sense; much more sense to kill an adult than an innocent child. In the Tower, it was also straight forward. Kill the abominations, kill Uldred, save the mages. Simple.

But this... this was different. Aedan knew that he had made the best choice in terms of ending the Blight. Though he was angry that Lilyth had kept Zathrian's blood magic a secret from him, now that he knew, he couldn't deny that such a powerful blood mage was a useful ally to have. He had lived for centuries and, in that time, had grown stronger and stronger.

How could Aedan have turned down such a powerful ally? He was strong enough to get into Lilyth's head and gather information from her thoughts, and sly enough to use that information to have Lilyth–who, apparently, was the only one of them who could have understood Zathrian's actions–convince Aedan to agree to his request. And, he had been right. Aedan _had_ agreed.

Still... that powerful ally had come at the terrible cost of so many innocents. Aedan hadn't wanted to kill them, not once he had learned the truth of what had happened. They had been just poor souls who had been cursed against their will and, after a lifetime of pain, he had been the instrument of their death. In order to gain a powerful ally against the Archdemon, Aedan had killed them. With no hesitation, no compassion, no emotion at all, he had stuck a blade between their ribs, only pulling it out to kill another one.

What would his father have said? Or Mother, or Fergus? Father had taught him to care for the poor and suffering. Fergus was his heir, but Father had taught them both to be good lords to those under them; to care for the starving as best they could, to provide shelter and aid to those in need. And yet, Aedan had tossed all those lessons away to gain an ally for the Blight.

The worst of it, the absolute worst, was that Aedan still didn't even know for sure if it had been needed. Zathrian had said that the only way for him to end the curse was by sacrificing himself, but what if he had been lying?

"I thought I would find you here."

Aedan jerked his head up, scowling at the sight of Morrigan. She had a large book in her hands, and a strange look on her face, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "What do you want?"

"I wished to speak with you."

He scowled. "Can't it wait? At least until morning?"

The witch shook her head. "I am afraid not. The sooner I tell you, the better. I have been studying Mother's grimoire. The one I found in the Circle Tower. You remember, yes?"

Ugh, why now? Aedan stuck the point of his dagger into the ground. "I remember."

"I wish to tell you what I have learned." She paused. " 'Tis worth your time to listen. It will only take a moment."

Aedan looked up at her curiously; there was something about the tense edge to her voice that managed to draw him out of his dark thoughts. "Very well. What is it?"

In one graceful movement she was sitting down next to him with the book open in her hands. " 'Tis... not what I had thought. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, or perhaps a map of the power that she is able to command..."

Aedan studied her profile. For someone normally so confident in herself, she suddenly looked troubled. "Did you find nothing, then?"

"No, there is much of interest in her writings. Things I did not know. One in particular that... well, allow me to explain it." She pointed to one of the pages, which was full of writing Aedan didn't recognize. Was it an arcane language maybe? "Here, in great detail, she explains how it is that she has lived for so long."

"Is it a type of spell?" Aedan didn't pretend to understand how magic worked. "That would be useful for you, wouldn't it?"

"Only if I happened to be an ancient abomination. And no, 'tis not a spell. Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are many stories among the Chasind of these Witches of the Wild. Yet, for all these stories, I have never seen one and always wondered why that was so."

She looked down at the book. "And, now, I know. They are _all_ Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. Then, when the time is right, she takes the daughter's body for her own."

Aedan stared at her, but he couldn't find it in himself to be shocked. If Morrigan had approached him the previous day, or even that morning, he wouldn't have believed it. But, he had just seen proof that an ancient Keeper could summon a spirit and bind it to the body of an animal, creating a curse that had lasted for a few hundred years and cursed those who came into contact with it. As far as he was concerned, ancient mages could do all manner of things he never would've thought possible.

"I'm not sure I understand exactly what you're saying," he said slowly. "She... raises a daughter, then takes that daughter's body, to extend her life? How does she do it? And why would she risk sending you with me? The Blight is dangerous; isn't she worried you might get killed?"

"Perhaps the Blight threatens her as much as anyone else, I do not know. Perhaps she thinks I will grow in power while I am aiding you."

"So, how does she do it?"

Morrigan frowned. "Once, Flemeth was a mage. This was long before the creation of the Circle of Magi, but she wielded magical power of the same sort that the ancient shamans did." She looked up at the sky. "She summoned a demon and made it part of her, becoming an abomination. An abomination that has thrived. You know that most abominations soon become overrun by the demon that possesses them, yes?"

Aedan nodded; that had been made very clear to him during their trip in the Circle Tower.

" 'Tis not the case with Flemeth. Whether she has _always_ been a demon, or has learned to master the demon, or has become one with it... I do not know. But, no matter _what_ she is, her body still ages. That demon will keep her from dying of old age, but her body still deteriorates. Eventually, were she to remain as she is, she would become so wizened as to be senseless and immobile."

"So... she takes her daughter's body as a means for survival? To keep herself from staying alive while her body wastes away and becomes feeble?" Aedan winced. He was starting to see where this was going to go, and he couldn't blame Morrigan for wanting to speak with him at once.

The witch nodded. "Yes. I... am to be the next new... body she uses."

Damn. He'd been hoping that he was wrong. "So, since you know this, what are you going to do?"

"There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die." The witch's lips pressed together in an angry frown. "I will not sit about like an empty sack, waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I... I need your help to do it."

Aedan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, conscious of Morrigan studying him carefully. "Kill Flemeth... If not for her, Alistair, Lilyth, and I would have died at Ostagar. She saved our lives." He hesitated. Even though Flemeth _had_ saved them, if she was really plotting to take Morrigan's body–and probably her life–what else could he do? Flemeth might have saved them... "But, so have you," he said out loud. "Your spells and hexes have saved our lives more than once. And you're... sure about this, right? You're absolutely positive? I don't want to confront Flemeth and possibly kill her if there's any chance that you're mistaken."

Morrigan nodded firmly. "I am. That is primarily what this tome details; the various daughters that Flemeth has acquired, their preparation and training. I recognize all of it, for these are things she has taught me. I am to be the next host. That was my... purpose."

Aedan frowned, absorbing all of this information. He wanted to know as much as possible before he committed. "Why do you need my help? Is it because she is such a powerful abomination that you don't think you can kill her on your own?" He paused. "And, if she _is_ that strong, how are we supposed to kill her? If she's as ancient as you say, what am I supposed to do?"

"I need you to confront her for me." The witch looked down at the book in her hands and sighed. "If she is slain while I am nearby, I am not certain that she will not take possession of me right there. So, obviously, I cannot do it on my own. As to _how_ you will do it..." She raised her eyes and looked at him. "I would suggest that you outlast her. You will soon notice that, though she may be wounded, Flemeth will not heal herself. So long as you make sure your healer is prepared, you will be fine. And... keep out of range. Flemeth uses... many spells that effect a large area."

"Okay... I can do that." Aedan thought for a minute before realizing that there really wasn't any choice. He couldn't just let Morrigan deal with this on her own. "Very well. I will help you. What do you need me to do?"

Morrigan let out a breath, looking more relieved than he'd ever seen her. "What needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds, without me. Confront her, and slay her quickly. Even then, I doubt she will be truly dead, but it will take years for her to find a new host and recover her power... if such a thing is even possible. The thing I _must_ have is her true grimoire. With it, I can defend myself against her power. Anything else in her hut is yours. Take what you like."

Aedan nodded. "Is there a time limit on this? We're planning to leave for Denerim tomorrow, to speak with Brother Genitivi. Will you be okay if we confront Flemeth after that?"

"The sooner she is dead, the sooner my mind is at ease. But, I am satisfied with waiting until after we are finished in Denerim." She paused for a moment, seeming mildly uncomfortable. "I... thank you. I had not expected you to agree so easily. I had worried that you would not believe me."

Aedan chuckled quietly. "Well, I won't lie; if you had told me all this before today, I might not have believed you. But... after what Zathrian did... well, it's not so hard to believe the things ancient mages are capable of."

"I understand." Morrigan's eyes trailed back to the Dalish camp, where the elves were still making merry with their companions. "Do you believe that Zathrian will honor his promise and stand beside the Grey Wardens against the Archdemon?"

Aedan's amusement died at her words. "He'd better. We slaughtered those werewolves to keep him on our side. If he's not there to face the Archdemon with us, I'll kill him."

The witch turned her head to look at him curiously. "You are not pleased with the outcome? You have the Dalish army you wished for." She paused as she studied his face. "I see... you did not wish to kill the werewolves."

"We could have ended the curse. They begged us to end it, and we _knew_ that Zathrian was lying and using us. And still... I decided to kill them. To keep a powerful blood mage on our side I... ended their lives."

Morrigan nodded, as if she understood exactly what he was saying. "You _did_ end their curse. Perhaps not in the way they had hoped for, but we are facing an Archdemon and a horde of darkspawn. You had the option of gaining a powerful ally for your army, or risking that ally for the sake of helping another. Against the darkspawn, you must _always_ choose the powerful ally."

Aedan sighed. "Yes, I agree. But... I didn't want to kill them."

" 'Tis fewer than the darkspawn will kill, if they have their way."

"I know. But, somehow, that doesn't make it any easier."

Morrigan watched him curiously. "Yet, despite that you are not pleased with what you had to do, if given the option, would you do it again?"

Aedan took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I would," he admitted, though he hated himself for it. Still, he couldn't deny it. "Because, as you said, if given the chance, the darkspawn will kill thousands. We can't risk that. I just... wish it could have been handled differently."

Morrigan seemed to accept that answer. The two fell into a companionable silence, watching the camp from a distance.

oOo

Lilyth sat at the foot of the massive tree, holding her hands up in front of her. Situated so far away from the Dalish camp, there were a few open spots between the trees, allowing the big summertime moon to peek down. Lilyth smiled at how silvery the pale skin of her hands looked in the moonlight. _Almost like hers had been_.

She took in a breath and released enough energy to cause a few sparks of lightning to dance across her fingers. With one hand, she caught the lightning and swirled it around her wrist, watching the sparks flutter around her hand before sending it back to her other hand. It was mindless, easy, and soothed the whirlwind of her mind.

"What are you doing, my lovely Warden?"

Lilyth, who didn't need to look up to know who it was, didn't bother to take her eyes off the lightning dancing between her hands. "Nothing at all. I simply did not feel like celebrating with those barbarians. It is truly amazing how, after playing my part in the saving of their hunters, suddenly I am no longer 'flat-ear'. In fact, they are going quite out of their way to act as though they never called me that at all." She gave a hard laugh. "I had a strong urge to tell them about Zathrian's magic, if only to shut them up and see the looks on their faces, but I swore to keep his secret. So, I thought it best to leave."

Zevran sat down next to her, watching the lightning sparks she was playing with. "Ah, and here I thought you were tired of the constant admiration from the Dalish men."

Lilyth smiled. "Oh, them? No, I am quite used to men asking if they may sit next to me, or searching for any excuse at all to speak with me. However, I do have better things to do than listen to some elf who never bathes praising my eyes, or telling me how pretty my hair is. As if I need them to tell me!"

The assassin choked on a laugh. "I would have thought that, after Zathrian ignored your advances, you would have enjoyed having men admire you?"

"It is fine if they wish to admire me from a distance," Lilyth specified. "But, when I am sitting next to a fire attempting to read and they keep asking me if I wish to try the food, or stumbling over themselves as they thank me for helping their hunters... well, I can do without that type of behavior."

Zevran seemed to find that highly amusing. "Still, at least the whole Dalish Clan is not useless, since Zathrian has agreed to teach you more of his knowledge, yes? You are the reason Aedan did not kill him, after all."

Lilyth moved her fingers, watching the lightning flutter between her hands. "He is sending out messages to the other Clans and he has said he will gather them outside Redcliffe Village, in the hills around it. He told me that he cannot teach me more at the moment, but that when they gather to face the Archdemon, he can easily find an excuse to slip away from his Clan and train me."

"That is good, no?"

Lilyth frowned, her eyes on the sparks that danced on her fingertips. "You know as well as I that, once we reach Denerim, I intend to leave the Wardens. Still, I suppose it _is_ good to have a such an ancient blood mage owe me his life. I may call on him before I leave Ferelden and ask that he train me then. However, before I allow him to train me, I must take care to protect myself from his magic. I do not care to have him see into my mind again."

Zevran was quiet for a minute, as if thinking about something. "Yes, I had wondered about that. Is that a common power among blood mages?"

"Yes and no," Lilyth said. "It is a difficult thing to learn, but most stronger blood mages know it. It is similar to blood binding someone, which is getting into their head and forcing or coercing them to do something. But, it is far more subtle than blood binding. Instead of forcing their actions, you are simply exploring what you find in their mind." She shrugged. "Of course, you can only see the thoughts they are currently thinking. It is not as if you could see everything that has ever been in their mind."

"Are you able to do it?"

Lilyth frowned. "No. It was not an art I learned. You understand, of course, that my blood magic training was put on hold for the eight years that I lived in the Tower. And, when I was young and first learned it with the others, Mistress Brinna only wished for us to learn enough to brand us as maleficarum."

"Yes, I understand," Zevran said quietly. He paused for a moment, but then looked at Lilyth. "But, I am curious about what Zathrian did see. The girl he saw was your sister, yes?"

Lilyth scowled. She'd been expecting that. Zevran was always wanting to ferret out information. But, what did the assassin want to know? He knew she had a sister that had been killed. What else did he need? "Yes," she said sharply. "My little sister, Letia."

"You never speak of her."

"And, so?" Lilyth was irritated. Why should he care who she did or didn't speak of?

The assassin shrugged. "You were thinking of her last night, no? That is how Zathrian saw her?"

Lilyth sighed and let go of the sparks of magic. "I think of her every night," she said quietly.

"Tell me about her."

Lilyth's head snapped up. "What?"

Zevran leaned back on his hands, turning his head to look at the lights of the Dalish fires. "I said: tell me about her. To be honest, when I first heard about her, I found it difficult to imagine you with any sort of family. I am curious to know what your sister was like."

Lilyth hesitated, not sure if she wanted to tell him _anything_ about Letia. But, before she could stop herself, the words seemed to form on their own. "She was... beautiful. The most exquisite little girl you could ever imagine. Perfect."

She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. "She had hair like dark honey. When I brushed it for her, it was as if I held a golden waterfall in my hands. And her skin... I have never seen such skin in my life. She was so pale that her skin looked almost silver. And the bluest eyes you've ever seen, like beautiful sapphires." Lilyth sighed. "She was a gem. Like a delicate statue some artist had carefully crafted from precious metals and jewels."

Zevran was quiet for a moment. "How old was she when she died?"

"Only five." Lilyth pressed her lips together. "I cannot even imagine what sort of woman she would have become, for she was the sweetest child you could ever picture. She used to love stories, you know, especially those with beautiful maidens who were rescued by their handsome princes. Every night, before she fell asleep, she would ask me to tell her a story. At the time, I did not know how to read, so she would beg me to make up stories. And she adored sweets. Sometimes, I would steal a coin from Father's pocket and purchase her a pastry from the market. But, she would never eat it alone. She would always break it in half and make me share it with her."

The assassin smiled. "She sounds quite charming."

"Oh, she was. Everyone in the Alienage adored her." Lilyth scowled. They had adored her, but not enough to protect her. She clasped the crystal around her neck. It didn't matter. Soon enough, she'd figure out that book and discover how to use her necklace again. She'd find Letia's soul and put her in the amulet, giving her back the life she had missed.

"May I ask, what happened to her? I know that she was killed, but you have never said more than that."

Lilyth turned her head and eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you care?"

The assassin shrugged. "You know what happened with Rinna, yes? You saw her in the Fade. You know what I did. I just... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. If you do not wish to tell me, I will not press you."

Lilyth frowned. She _had_ seen Rinna. She knew that Rinna had been someone that Zevran had cared about, and that, for some reason, Zevran had killed her. "My father," she finally said.

The assassin's eyes widened, and Lilyth sighed. She knew she would probably have to elaborate, and didn't care to wonder _why_ she felt the need to tell him more. "My father... was a drunk. The Alienage... it is a poor place, as you no doubt know, and those who cannot afford food often take to drink." Lilyth's face grew dark as she voiced the memory. "When Father drank, he liked to yell. And, when he yelled, he liked to hit. Mother was too afraid of him to do anything more than remind us to keep out of his way. Normally, we slipped out of the house when Father drank, and only came home when he had fallen asleep. There were times when Letia and I would sleep at other houses the whole night."

She clenched her hands together in her lap. "There was one evening, when I was not home because I was helping my elder brother with some tasks. When we had finished, we came home..." She paused and took in a breath. "I do not know exactly what happened, but I saw Letia crumpled on the ground, and Father was shouting something at Mother. My two other brothers were not home, and no one was paying attention to Letia."

Lilyth hesitated. "I do not remember much after that. I know that Letia was lying on her back, that her eyes were closed and there was blood... she was dead. She had a deep cut on the back of her head, and her cheek was split open."

"How old were you at the time?" Zevran asked quietly.

"I was eight, and that was the night my magic manifested. I remember screaming. I remember wanting so badly to kill my parents. I remember that there was suddenly fire everywhere, and my elder brother had his arms around me and was lifting me in the air. After that..." Lilyth broke off and shrugged, as if none of it mattered. "The next thing I remember was that it was the middle of the day–though whether it was the next day or a few days after that, I do not know–and Father was accepting a bag of money from some woman. Elita, her name was. The walls of the house were blackened, as if they had been partially charred, and Elita grabbed me and took me from the house. I do not know if I said anything, or protested, or what. I remember being in a cart, and realizing that something was wrong. I remember screaming and fighting, and that Elita had her men bind me. Then, I was brought to the Mistress."

Zevran was silent for a minute. "But, you got your revenge, yes?"

Lilyth gave him a smile that held no humor. "Well, when I ran away from the Mistress, I could not just leave my family, could I? I went to my old house, where they were still living, and I killed them. Simple as that. The mother who was too frightened to defend her daughters, the brothers who never protected their sisters, and the father who caused it all."

"I see." The assassin looked angry. "That is... a terrible thing for a child to have gone through."

Lilyth waved his comment off, denying the anger she still felt. "Zevran, you do not need to give me empty words. I know you, yourself, were sold as a child, and from what you have told me about the Crows, and from my own time with the Mistress, I know that it is not such a strange thing to have gone through. Children are sold every day, and others are killed, through neglect or anger."

"Yes," the assassin conceded, "but, just because it is something that happens does not mean that it is okay. Your sister did not deserve to die, and you did not deserve to be sold."

Lilyth hesitated. She hadn't expected him to say something like that. "Neither did you," she said quietly.

The two of them were silent for a time, and Lilyth was unsure of what to say. Part of her was relieved at having told someone what had happened with Letia, at acknowledging her existence, and having told someone what a beautiful child she had been.

But, the other part of her was wary. She had only ever told one other person the full details of what had happened, and that man had only feigned concern. Foolish young girl that she had been, she had believed him when he had held her and asked to hear about Letia. He had held her and sworn that one day they'd run away together, away from the Mistress.

But, he had been lying. When Mistress Brinna had offered to free his family in exchange for undergoing a terrible experiment, he had accepted it without any thought of his promises to Lilyth. Then, he had been sold, and Lilyth had put him out of her memory. She shouldn't even be thinking about him now. For all she knew, he was dead. And, she didn't care.

"Zevran," she said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do not tell anyone what I told you. I do not... just, I ask that you keep it to yourself."

The assassin smiled and reached over, covering her hand with his. "I swear, I will not say a word _mi lirio de sangre_. And, one day, I will also tell you about Rinna, since you have been so honest with me. But, for now, I have a question."

Lilyth narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean? You were calling me something else. _Mi muj... jer..._ something, I cannot remember it, and you refused to tell me _that_. Now, you have a new name for me? What does it mean?"

Zevran laughed. "I might tell you, one day." He gave her hand a squeeze and let go.

Lilyth frowned at him. "Then, your question?"

His grin widened. "What do you know of poetry? Specifically, Antivan poetry?"

Lilyth was confused, and didn't bother to hide it. What a strange change of topic. "I... do not really know anything about poetry. I have heard poems, of course, but that is it. Why?"

"I am no master of serious conversation, you know," Zevran said, "and I thought, perhaps, I could say something to lighten the mood. I once heard a poem, you see. It was recited to me, if I recall correctly, by a rather wealthy target of mine. Let me see..." He cleared his throat as to prepare for it. " 'The symphony I see in thee; it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck; songs of soft sighs by my head. Songs of nails upon my back; songs of thee come to my bed.' "

Lilyth stared at him for a moment before bursting out into a peal of laughter. "That was... terrible! A _mark_ told you that? What was she hoping for? That you would kill her faster, simply to get her to stop speaking?"

Zevran grinned, sharing in the amusement. "Oh, I know, I know. I couldn't believe she actually thought that would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. But, the poem was amusing, and so I've always remembered it."

Lilyth snickered, her earlier bad mood slipping away in the face of such a ridiculous thing. "You slept with her? I can only hope her words in bed were better than her poem. Or, did she simply squeal and recite more horrid poetry?"

The assassin laughed. "You know, I am not completely sure. If I recall, her face was muffled against a pillow so that I did not have to hear her." As Lilyth continued laughing, Zevran grinned. "See, I knew a bit of naughty poetry would be just the thing to put a smile on that lovely face."

"Well, I suppose I should at least say that I appreciate the attempt?"

"Ah, it is nice to have one's attempts appreciated. You know, I do tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in, and it has served me well, most days. Perhaps you might wish to learn to do the same?"

Lilyth snorted. "Wise advice from the assassin who finds himself helping the very marks he failed to kill."

"You will never let me live that down, will you?" Zevran sighed dramatically. "You are such a cruel woman! Here I am, trying to make you smile, and your response is to hit me below the belt."

"Perhaps I am only making the best of my situation," she said shrewdly. "And finding ways to make myself laugh."

Zevran chuckled at that. "You are a clever little minx! Is it any wonder I chase after you as I do?"

That took the smile off her face, as he had probably known it would. She knew that Zevran enjoyed flirting with her, that he hoped to bed her, but whenever he made jokes about it, he usually said it so casually; as if it were a jest that she shouldn't bother to take seriously. But, for some reason, he sounded more serious this time. And she wasn't sure how to take it.

"What do you hope for, assassin? Why _do_ you chase after me?"

Zevran gave her a smile. "Well, if you do not know, I am certainly not going to tell you. Where is the fun in that?"

Lilyth frowned at him, but that only made the assassin laugh.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Lots of thanks to Suilven, not only for waving her magical beta stick and fixing all my mistakes, but for also pointing out thoughts/suggestions that made this chapter so much better! Thank you for all your help sweetie!_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, requested alerts, or are lurking. It really means a lot!_


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